Timely Errors
by Worfe
Summary: Harry Potter never had much luck, being sent to his parents’ past should have been expected. 'Complete' Time travel fic.
1. Chapter 1

Timely Errors

Summary: Harry Potter never had much luck, being sent to his parent's past should have been expected. Time Travel fic.

For your information: This is set post fifth year, but Harry's summer between fifth and sixth year went a little different. Just embrace the non cannon elements, as I think some of us are like to do. No pairings, No Slash, And hopefully decent grammar.

-

Chapter One: A More Exciting Way to Learn History

-

Later, everyone would say that it was all Ron Weasley's fault.

Ron himself proclaimed, and rather loudly, that it really was Hermione Granger who had started the whole thing. But no one believed him. Well, except for Harry Potter who had been there and witnessed it all. In the modest opinion of the boy-who-lived, each had earned a share of the blame. However, as he didn't want to be on the outs with both his friends, he merely kept his mouth shut about the whole event.

It had all started on a rather normal day. Indeed it had been a Tuesday and Harry had found that statistically nothing of great interest or disaster ever happened on Tuesdays. Thursdays were tricky, he'd had some terrible events occur on Thursdays. He'd been dropped at the Durselys on a Thursday, he'd been bitten by a basilisk on a Thursday, and the dark lord Voldemort had arisen on a Thursday. Fridays were only slightly better and Mondays had a history of going bad. Wednesdays could go either way but usually held some sort of dramatic choice. His mother had sacrificed herself on a Wednesday (which had saved Harry even as it doomed her), and Harry had just recently beat back Voldemort on a Wednesday (although the battle could have very easily gone the other way). But Tuesdays were quite normal, which was why on that particular day Harry Potter had been in a good mood.

He should have known that the statistics wouldn't bare him out, because things usually did go wrong around Harry Potter.

-

"What class do we have first thing?" Harry had asked aloud at breakfast. He fiddled with his bacon, enjoying the feeling of relaxation that Tuesdays brought.

Hermione looked up from her Daily Prophet, "History of Magic."

Ron groaned loudly. "Not Binns again, History has to be the most boring thing in the world."

"Hush," criticized Hermione, swiping her newspaper in his direction, "History is very important. You don't want to repeat the mistakes of the past now do you? And besides, ever since we started our sixth year they've cut that class to only one hour a week. Surely even you can stay awake for that."

"What do you mean repeat it, history is over. It can't be repeated. Studying it is a waste of time. Anyway we share that class with the Slytherins," growled Ron. The red head spared a glare for the house with green ties.

Hermione rolled her eyes,"Now Ronald really--

It likely continued on from there but Harry was more focused on eating his bacon, he expertly tuned out the sound of Ron and Hermione's constant bickering. Without noticing, he began to hum. This managed to draw the attention of his quarreling friends.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Hermione asked him pointedly.

"It's Tuesday," Ron answered before Harry could reply. He nudged his best mate with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes, again. "How many times have I told you that the day of the week doesn't mean anything, things happen regardless of what day it is."

"So you keep saying," Harry said with a small grin, "But I've never been attacked by a Dark Lord nor has anything attempted to eat me on a Tuesday. The worst that has ever happened has been Potions class, and let's face it everyone suffers there."

Hermione huffed, she'd yet to change his mind.

"Anyway is it so unusual for me to be happy?" the raven haired boy asked.

Hermione shared a glance with Ron. "Not unusual…" she trailed off.

What could either say? Harry's attitude since Voldemort's supposed defeat had been slightly difficult to pin down. At times he was the cheerful Harry they knew, yet his mood seemed to easily shift. Almost like the weather. The clouds would build up slowly, you could see them brewing if you knew the signs, then Harry would lock himself away, stare "gloomily" (as Hermione had described it) at the flickering fireplace before throwing himself into his work. They'd watch him train for hours, his wand a wicked instrument of magic. Spells would fly fast and incensed for over an hour, sometimes two or three. And during this time there seemed to be nothing they could do to reach him. Then the obsession would wane and Harry would be back for a bit.

Neither of his friends knew what triggered these outbursts. Harry had never tried to explain. Hermione had asked once but Harry would only shake his head ruefully and explain that it was merely something he had to do.

Not that his friends hadn't wanted to pry, but secretly Hermione believed that her friend's intensity was linked to his need to live up to his famous name, one which had grown even more famous now that people believed he had defeated Voldemort again only last summer. And for this reason she, and a grumbling Ron, decided to let the matter alone.

But, of course, Voldemort was not gone. Harry was quite willing to say that Voldemort hadn't been vanquished and was once again biding his time, but the wizarding world pretended not to hear. Hermione was sure that Harry felt compelled to train himself up and defeat the dark lord quite thoroughly the next time they met.

Hermione was wrong.

But this story isn't really Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort and their seemingly fated confrontations. It isn't even about how Hermione Granger can sometimes be very wrong. Rather, this story is more linked to the trouble that can occur when a person says things he oughtn't. (And the entirety of Hogwarts believed that person was Ron Weasley)

Of course at that moment, no one knew what was about to occur. Particularly since it was Tuesday. Even Sybil Trelawny hadn't considered anything amiss, although later she would claim that she had. (Second Tuesday in the month of a full moon dears, bad omens indeed.)

After a normal breakfast, the trio took their usual route to the History of Magic class room. The settled into their seats, sitting in the same seats as they always did. Hermione snagged a spot in front while her slightly less academic friends sat behind her. All three got out pieces of parchment, Hermione bent on note taking and Harry and Ron were preparing for an epic game of hangman. Harry had taught his friend the muggle game and the pureblood wizard seemed to take a shine to it. They'd covered sheets of parchment with the innocent diversion. A few weeks before it had been tic-tack-toe and Dragon Dragon Rabbit. (The last being a wizarding game that Harry was quite terrible at, mostly because Ron kept altering the rules.)

It wasn't long before the ghostly professor took his place at the head of the classroom and without pausing for breath, as he didn't breathe, began lecturing about the Goblin rebellion of 1643. Most of class gradually submerged back into sleep. Either that or they found things to keep them occupied. Lavender was braiding Pravati's hair. Ron and Harry continued their parchment games. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan seemed to take cue from their housemates and started their own games. In essence, everything was occurring normally. Harry secretly relished the unexciting quality of it all.

However, Hermione was in an odd mood today. Ron would later say, not in her hearing of course, that it must have been _that _time of the month. Harry, on the other hand, thought that after six years of her being the only one to pay attention to Binns, and thus be the one who everyone begged notes off of, had caused the bookish Gryffindor to snap.

Either way on that particular day, in between taking her notes, Hermione would periodically glance back at her two friends and glare, whisper a negative comment, and or sniff in a highly aggrieved manner. Oddly enough it was the sniffing which caused Ron to narrow his own eyes in frustration.

Hermione thought she was putting pressure on her two friends to be more responsible with their studies. What the bushy haired girl didn't quite understand was that sometimes increasing pressure can make things explode.

Harry could sense the red head's growing temper but didn't have any way of communicating the danger to Hermione. He knew, because the phrases Ron Weasley chose for their game of hangman where becoming increasingly violent, finally ending the game with "If she sniffs one more time I'm gonna burst". (Harry had a difficult time solving that one, Ron didn't seem to get that it had to be an actual popular saying. Still between muggle and wizard idioms, he supposed it would have been just as difficult anyway.)

Hermione sniffed again.

"Dammit all Hermione. IT IS JUST HISTORY, NO ONE BLOODY CARES!"

Ron's voice echoed around the room, almost everyone snapped out of their drowsy moods and were now gazing at Ron with shocked expressions. Harry wasn't quite as surprised. He ducked his head into his hands and wondered what was going to happen, and why would it have to happen on his lovely Tuesday.

"What was that Mr. Wellsly?" demanded Binns in a cool tone.

No one said anything. No one had ever seen Binns as focused on anyone as he was on Ron. Indeed, often times Binns didn't even seem aware that he had a class. If the man hadn't noticed his own death, well let's just say that the trivial things like a class and its attention span didn't matter much.

Yet somehow Ron Wesley had done the impossible and sparked the dead wizard's interest. Suddenly the ghost was peering around the room with grim eyes. And you haven't seen grim until you've seen the eyes of a dead, disapproving history buff. Professor Binns took in Parvati's half braided hair, he spotted Neville Longbottom who had been drooling on his desk, he noticed the game of paper football that Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had been playing. Across the aisle, the Slytherins were no better. Ron's outbust hadn't managed to awake Gregory Goyle who continued to snore, Pansy Perkinson had her Charms book out and was hastily writing an essay due next class, Draco Malfoy had enough tact to lower the mirror he'd been using to see if his eyebrows were even.

A low resonating growl seemed to emanate from the small ghost as he observed his class for the first time in years.

"Mr. Wellsly, indeed all of you, Black, Patti, Langston, Tallow, and Finwanger" the class looked around trying to figure out who he had singled out, "You all have failed to grasp the importance of history and your negligence stops now. I daresay you will all soon be very interested!"

The class looked rather disbelieving.

"He's gone loopy," Ron whispered to Harry.

The class of sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Half of the room was rather happy, after all, if Binns had gone mad surely he couldn't be allowed to bore them with more lectures about Goblin rebellions. The other half were not so happy, if Binns's death hadn't stopped the man from teaching, well a little case of madness certainly wouldn't. Hermione sighed, if anything this meant his lectures were going to be even more erratic, she foresaw note taking becoming even more difficult.

"Yes indeed," cackled Binns with a dark tone none of them had suspected he possessed. "You'll all appreciate History a little more!"

A loud snore from Goyle seemed to punctuate this statement.

With a cool gust of wind Professor Binns soared across to his desk. Harry had never seen the ghost take any interest in this piece of furniture, without the house elves it would likely be covered with dust. Binn's ghostly hand reached through one of his drawers and emerged with a fist full of white powder.

Harry cocked his head in confusion, but his eyes were already glum. Harry knew trouble quite intimately, and there was little point getting excited about it. But he did wonder what the material was that Binns managed to hold. He was a ghost afterall. Peeves managed to touch material things, but he was a poltergeist. What sort of material could a ghost touch?

With a large gesture, Binns opened his palms and the white material soon dusted about the room. As the powder rained down upon them, Harry noticed that it wasn't powder, but rather sand. He rolled it between his fingers and wondered why Binns had pelted them with white sand, perhaps he really had gone loopy.

Hermione, sitting in the front, seemed to have been covered the most. She sneezed and tried to dust herself off. Around the room the other students were acting in a similar manner. Draco Malfoy said, rather loudly, that his "father wouldn't stand for this", Lavender and Parvati both swiped at their hair rather frantically, and Goyle slept on.

Things were beginning to settle down when quite suddenly Hermione Granger disappeared.

Pandemonium might have broken out, both Harry and Ron had risen to their feet in alarm, but it was at that moment that a rather calm looking Dumbledore entered the room.

The old headmaster looked around the room with a somewhat grim, but unsurprised look. His eyes rested upon Harry Potter and the look became even grimmer but no more surprised.

Professor Macgongall arrived behind him only moments later. "Headmaster, what would require my presence away from seventh year transfiguration?" she enquired coolly. Her glacial look warmed a few degrees when she spotted the unhappy students who seemed dusted in white.

Dumbledore ignored the deputy headmistress's question and instead turned to the History of Magic Professor. "Binns," Dumbledore reproved, looking down at the little ghost, "We've discussed this after what happened to that class in 1956."

The ghost didn't look repentant in the least, Macgonagall however gasped.

"He didn't," she squeaked.

"Professor, what happened to Hermione?" asked Harry with a steady voice.

"Oh dear, starting already is it?" The headmaster glanced around taking in the empty seat.

" Alright, everyone to the hospital wing. But first," Dumbledore waved his wand and a burst of wind swept through the room. The white sand which had coated the students was caught in the breeze and flew to the back of the classroom where it collected on the floor. Unfortunately, Neville Longbottom had opened his mouth at that unlucky moment and a great deal of sand flew into his mouth. He coughed for a moment before promptly disappearing.

Once again everyone started speaking at once. Dumbledore promptly shot bright purple sparks from his wand.

"The hospital wing please," he said quite formally. He turned to McGonagall and asked, "where is Professor Snape, I believe I asked him to be present as well."

"He has advanced Potions, I daresay he didn't think your invitation merited his presence," she replied primly.

"Well, fetch him now. As head of Slytherin House he'll need to contact his students' parents about the incident."

McGonagall nodded. Before leaving she shot a glance at the students who were still seated. "I believe the headmaster told you to report to the Hospital Wing."

That was how several grumbling Slytherin and Gryffindor sixth years found themselves marching to hospital. The two houses, which were known for their equal dislike, seemed to have called a momentary truce. There was only one attempted tripping and a few discreet elbow jabs, the whole procession was practically civilized. And it was in the same manner that the students clamored onto beds and waited to find out what the batty history professor had done to them.

"Madame Pomfrey, if you would perhaps pass out some pepperup potion, I don't want anymore popping away before I've explained," Dumbledore said standing before them all rather hesitantly. He coughed and reached into his pocket for a lemon drop while the students begrudgingly swallowed the potion that Pomfrey distributed.

"Well now, let me first assure you that you are in no direct danger. The substance that Professor Binns distributed throughout your class is in general quite harmless. Just a magically charged sand. No need for alarm."

At this statement, a few of the more nervous students released sighs of relief. Harry did not. He knew the old headmaster well enough to see trouble brewing in the man's blue eyes.

"However, there is one little negative drawback. Nothing too serious. A similar incident occurred in 1956, all the students at that time were fine. Indeed I rather think that they learned a valuable lesson from the entire experience. You see…" Dumbledore reached into his pocket for another sweet. "Oh do forgive me, would you like a lemon drop?" At this the old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather lumpy brown bag, he offered the bag to the students.

Everyone said no, except Harry. Merlin knows he'd need something sweet to take his mind off of whatever Dumbledore was about to unveil. He already had a vague idea, and if he was correct he may need to get his own bag of lemon drops.

"You see the sand was charged with magic, as I've said. The magic isn't random however, this particle is usually called time sand."

Harry would have groaned, except his mouth was a little busy with the lemon drop.

"Really a rare and curious substance. It occurs naturally and builds up, usually in magical places, over a period of time. However it does seem to have an interesting effect on people. Which is why it is carefully monitored by the ministry and usually only used for one purpose. And that is to make ministry issue time turners. For those of you who aren't familiar, time turners allow the user to go back in time a few hours. Usually this is used by ministry bureaucrats to avoid paying overtime."

Ron shot a glance in Harry direction, it seemed that the red head had also caught on.

"Now, as I said, this substance has an odd effect on people. Which makes it nearly impossible for wizards and witches to aide in the making of time turners, and magic seems to have no effect on substance. Hence, the time sand used in time turners is handled only by ghosts, whose weak placement on the time grid makes them able to handle the substance without any of the negative effects. Really it is quite interesting, Bernard Balckphone wrote a particularly interesting hypothetical article discussing how the ectoplasm serves to act as a barrier between the timeratory substance—"

"Professor," Harry interrupted. "What does all this mean, and when exactly did Hermione and Neville get to?" The two classes both looked rather glad that Harry had managed to focus the headmaster, although some of the brighter ones were rather disconcerted about the phrasing of his second question.

"Ah yes, quite right Mr. Potter. You see, when living witches and wizards are exposed to time sand, the substance accumulates and eventually sends the individual to a time in the past. Now in about a week, no more than three on the outside, this accumulation dissipates, metabolized by the body, and the individual returns back to their original time."

"Wait a minute," Ron said rather loudly, "We've been exposed!"

Everyone else seemed to realize this as well and soon the room was filled with the voices of students. The emotions were rather varied, a few Gryffindors were rather excited about the entire thing, seemed to think it a grand adventure. Most of the students, however, weren't terribly excited to learn that they were only moments away from being swept into the past.

"What till my father hears about this, being assaulted by a professor, pelted with dangerous ministry issue material." Draco's grumbles were, of course, the loudest of the bunch.

"How did Professor Binn's get a hold of it?" asked Pansy Parkinson, for once demonstrating that there was something between her ears.

A few faces turned to Dumbledore.

"Ahh, well. Professor Binns is rather active for a ghost and seems to enjoy the work during the summer. I'm afraid he's been known to bring some of it home once school starts. Really must talk to him about it again. Still, he's only flown off the handle twice in fifty years, really not a bad record."

Dumbledore seemed to be talking more to himself than to the students. Thunderous voices continued to shout, Madam Pomfrey found herself at a loss on how to settle the students. Eventually the mediwitch locked herself in her office and decided to let the bemused headmaster settle the issue.

Harry Potter wasn't particularly troubled, well almost. He was rather disappointed that Tuesdays weren't as peaceful after all.

-

Five or so minutes later, Professor Macgonagall arrived with Professor Snape in tow. Between the Gryffindor head of house's yelling and Professor Snape's sneers, both houses were calmed down and were letting the situation set in. Professor Macgonagall insisted that Madame Pomfrey run an evaluation on each student just to make certain that the sand hadn't done more harm. Hence all the students were waiting for their exam before being dismissed to enjoy what time they had left in the present.

"What do you reckon," Ron asked Harry quietly. "Won't be too bad will it. I mean we get in scraps all the time. Might even be sort of a vacation. I mean they won't make us do assignments in the past right? What would be the point?"

"Maybe," agreed Harry. He had snagged another candy from the headmaster and was sucking it thoughtfully. He was a little worried about his friends who had already popped back to the past. He wasn't so worried about Hermione per se, he had a feeling the bushy haired witch was smart enough to figure out what had happened. Neville on the other hand could be clumsy sometimes, although he wasn't the sort to blurt things out and cause a scene. And, Neville had always been better at defending himself than the young man wanted to admit. He had done decently in the DA last year. So maybe they'd both be fine.

After everyone had calmed down, Dumbledore had explained that people would appear sometime in the past exactly where they had disappeared. Meaning that unless you went back further than a thousand years, you'd still appear in Hogwarts. So, his friends were relatively safe.

"Ronald Wesley," Madam Pomfrey called. Ron rose to his feet.

"See you at lunch mate?" the red head said before going behind a privacy curtain.

Harry continued to wait until everyone else had gone. "Harry Potter," finally called the friendly mediwitch.

Harry crossed behind the curtain but didn't find only Madam Pomfrey as he had expected. Rather, both Professor Dumbledore and his Head of House were also seated behind the curtain.

"Ah good Mr. Potter, I've been wanting to speak to you for awhile, but you seem to be avoiding the hospital wing," stated the mediwitch with raised eyebrows.

Harry shrugged, "I've been fine."

Madam Pomfrey looked at the ceiling and shook her head, "Yes Mr. Potter I daresay you'd say so. But having such powerful wards collapse onto someone isn't a trifling matter. How has your magic been behaving?"

"I thought you were scanning me to make sure I was healthy before I was sent back in time," argued Harry.

"Indeed we are Harry," said Dumbledore. The man's mouth narrowed as he examined the young man. "I'm afraid I can't tell you when you'll be sent to. Whenever you are may not have the proper healing magic available to help you should your magic cause a problem, I need to make sure you can handle it on your own."

Professor Macgonagall fidgeted in her chair. "It's not that we've noticed anything particularly unusual Harry, although you have skipped classes a few days this first month. That's not like you and we need to know if you're alright, particularly with this change of events."

Harry sighed. "I have been having some bursts of excess magic," admitted Harry.

"And that is to be expected," stated Dumbledore firmly. "The collapsing of the wards around Privet Drive constituted a very large backlash of magic. It was enough to send Voldemort into a coma. The fact that you survived is quite extraordinary, but how have you been dealing with these surges?"

"I've tried the meditating you taught me. It works for a bit, sometimes it manages to control it for a few hours. At least it assures that I can get somewhere safe, then I just fire off bursts of magic. Kind of like a fast paced training exercise. Not uncontrolled magic, spells. It sort of…drains away the energy and then things are okay again." Harry didn't know how to explain it any better than that.

All three adults looked pensive for a moment. "And that works for you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, I haven't had any trouble like I did when I first came here after Voldemort attacked Number Four."

Madam Pomfry's lips grew thin. Her face was usually impassive, mending away even the most gruesome magical mishaps without any emotion. However, Harry had spent enough time with the kindly witch to be able to read the slight changes in emotion. He knew that she was currently thinking of his condition this summer. It hadn't been pretty.

-

It had been on a Thursday, of course.

Dumbledore hadn't known of the disturbance prior to the wards collapse, which had signaled the end of the confrontation. The headmaster and the Order, with the Ministry close behind, had rushed to Number Four. Both groups had arrived just in time to see the Death Eaters carting away Voldemort's body and Harry Potter standing alone in the wreckage. (Later the Durselys were found alive, unfortunately, in the cellar of their home. They had been ordered there by their nephew and despite the life threatening nature of the request, were not the least bit happy about it.)

Harry had been rather stunned, bruised and bloodied, he'd suffered from one bout with the Cruciatus curse, but had somehow survived a cascading failure of some powerful blood wards practically unharmed.

Or that was how it seemed. It wasn't until a week later that they discovered the side effects of his amazing survival. It seemed that his magical core had absorbed a great deal of the magic released from the ward collapse.

On its own, this wasn't remarkable. Such collapses tended to respond that way, instantly seeking out a new container for the influx of magic. The end result for the people involved in such a collapse depended on a variety of factors. Firstly the amount of power in the wards, the size of the person's natural magical core, the age of the person and the connection a person had to their magic.

However, despite all these factors, in most cases the result was death. Too much magic could burn you up from the inside like a firecracker. If you were terribly lucky, you may end up in a magical coma, the likes of which currently consumed Voldemort. Some people had been fried by magic but managed to survive, of course their brains had more of a resemblance to pudding than anything else.

But, Harry, a young boy whose magical core was still growing…he had survived with no ill effects? Nothing like that had ever been heard of before. However after a week, they grew to learn the darker side of this miracle. It seemed that Harry's connection to the blood wards had made the magic more connected to him personally than would occur in most cases. Secondly his young, growing magical core had somehow managed to stretch to accommodate the upsurge. Yet, after a week of holding so much magic his core seemed to have reached its breaking point. Harry's skin had crackled and burned with magic, his eyes had glowed powerfully. His mind had been consumed, busy sensing and feeling all the magic around Hogwarts. But the same power that was radiating from his body also seemed to be slowly eating away his internal organs.

Then in a stunning burst of power, one which had almost destroyed the hospital wing, Harry had managed to purge some of the magic. It was only due to the actions of Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore that he had managed to stop, otherwise he could have destroyed Hogwarts itself, leaving nothing but a crater in the Scottish countryside. It had taken a few more mini-explosions before he had managed to reach the control he currently possessed.

-

Harry didn't say anything about the incident. Madam Pomfrey and the other seemed to take the hint and the mediwitch managed to hide her concerned stare. However the silence felt heavy in the air. But Harry couldn't blame them for ambushing him to discuss the situation. In an objective, logical way he could see why Dumbledore and the others might be a little concerned about Harry 'the magical time bomb' Potter traipsing through time.

But logic wasn't really how some people did things.

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled into a grin. "I have faith in you Harry, if you think you can manage I have nothing to fear."

"I think I'll be fine sir, just a couple weeks right?" Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Indeed Mr. Potter. Consider it a little break from your current fame." Dumbledore looked a little dour at the words.

Harry agreed, "Any word on Voldemort's condition." Not that Harry hadn't been enjoying the few months of Voldemort-free time, but he knew it wasn't a permanent state and the waiting made it worse somehow.

"No Harry, As far as we know he is still unconscious. Like you, it is amazing he even lived." Dumbledore watched the young man before him. The Prophecy swirling in his mind. Not for all the world would he want to lose Harry Potter. It was a blessing that the boy had managed to live, and if for that he had to endure Voldemort's continued existence, so be it.

"And the Ministry, are they still acting on the assumption that he is dead?"

Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "I'm afraid that is the case, however the Auor department is still on high alert. But I'm afraid the rest of the wizarding world is much more comfortable believing that you have emerged victorious."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Idiots."

"Mr. Potter," chastised Professor Macgonagall.

"I'm sorry Professor," apologized Harry. His tone however was not regretful.

"It is a somewhat apt description," Madam Pomfrey said wrily, she casually ignored the transfiguration professors cold stare.Harry nodded. "About the scan?"

The mediwitch raised her wand. "It has been suggested that health of the individual may impact how quickly the body responds to time sand. A lowered immune system seems to respond quicker. If you feel a cold coming on it is better to come for a vial of pepper-up potion," she advised. She muttered a spell and Harry blinked as colored lights flashed before his eyes. He'd never studied any diagnostic charms, and only basic healing, so he couldn't determine what it meant.

"You appear to be in good health Mr. Potter, although you could use a little more sleep," the woman advised.

"Any idea on a time line of how long we have until this dust sends us back in time?" Harry asked curiously.

"That I can't say Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said with a shake of the head. "Although I would imagine it would be sometime this year."

Harry nodded and shrugged his shoulders. Rising to his feet, Harry picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulders. "Thanks professors, Madam Pomfrey," stated Harry with a tired smile. As he left he forced himself to whistle and throw on a happier expression. Dumbledore had left his bad of lemon drops on a bed and Harry snagged a few more before going to meet Ron for lunch. Life at Hogwarts was bound to go on, whether time travel loomed or not.

Behind him the three adults remained silent until the hospital wing door shut.

"Do you really think he'll he alright Albus?" Macgonagall asked.

"I imagine so," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Harry does manage to find some surprising ways out of trouble."

"But these magical bursts, they can't be healthy." Minerva turned to Madam Pomfrey with worried eyes. The mediwitch had no words with which to allay her fears.

"That is curious," admitted Dumbledore with sigh. He rose to his feet, his blues eyes following the path Harry had walked. "There are two likely outcomes I can see. Either he will spend his magic too soon, and leave this world a muggle. Or he may very well become the most powerful wizard this world has ever known."

"Surely you don't think he'll loose his magic?" Minerva asked, fear present in her voice.

Dumbledore sighed, despite pretenses he knew that the strict transfiguration professor was quite fond of Harry Potter. "It's a possibility, but I wouldn't bet on it. Somehow that boy always manages to pull off the incredible."

-

Two months later.

-

"It was terrible," moaned Ron. He was sitting at the Gryffindor table with his head in his hands, only half paying attention to the food that was beginning to appear.

"Not only did I miss Halloween," complained Ron, "But I had to go to the most backward time imaginable." He loaded his plate with food, apparently a bad time travel experience couldn't stop the red head from eating a filling breakfast.

"Come now Ron, it couldn't have been that bad, when exactly were you sent?" Hermione seemed less concerned with Ron's mood and was more curious about what he had learned on his 'historical field trip' or at least that was what they had been calling them.

"1213, sometime in January, at least I think, the calendars were funny."

A few of the other Gryffindors , particularly those in the sixth year, leaned over to hear what Ron had to say. The time travels of the sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin classes had quickly become almost all the school could talk about. (The other topics were Harry Potter's love life and more importantly whether Harry Potter wore boxers or briefs. Harry and his dorm mates refused to comment on both.) Some students where rather jealous of the opportunity, particularly some Ravenclaws, and had taken to provoking Binns in hopes that he would send them to the past as well. Unfortunately, Dumbledore seemed to have confiscated all of Binn's time sand.

Ron was currently feeling too miserable to notice the attention that had landed upon him.

"1213!" Hermione said with some glee. "Oh that is terribly exciting, you must have learned a great deal about medieval Hogwarts." Hermione was ignoring her own breakfast and was leaning towards Ron excitedly. The bushy-haired witch's own travel to 1845 had been a 'great learning experience' and she'd been quite happy with it until some of her classmates ventured further back in time. Also, she had been fairly disappointed that her stay had only been a week. Neville Longbottom had stayed almost a week and half longer in 1634, during the famous Goblin Siege on Hogwarts.

"Uh…yeah, exciting," commented Ron sarcastically. "The people in the past are all berks. And the plumbing, you don't even want to know what I had to endure. And every night it was mutton for dinner. I like mutton as well as the next bloke, but every night?"

Trust Ron to think of his dinner and bathroom needs.

"Oh Ronald," complained his witch friend.

"Look, do you know how to conjure a chamber pot?" the red head asked.

"Uh, no?" Hermione asked a little perplexed. "Although I suppose it isn't much different from a normal pot."

"Trust me it is. I spent a few unpleasant nights in the Gryffindor dorms where apparently conjuring chamber pots are a first year skill. Although air freshening charms apparently aren't. One ruddy third year called me a 'swollen parcel of dropsies' now what the hell does that even mean?"

Hermione politely covered her smile.

"And the Professors kept yelling at me because I didn't know the runic movements behind each spell before I cast it. I thought there wouldn't be homework. And just trust me, you wouldn't want to get detention there, I couldn't sit for two days."

A few of the Gryffindors looked like they felt a little sorry for Ron, however some seemed to think that he had gotten just as he deserved for starting the whole mess. Seamus Finagan in particular thought Ron deserved all he'd got, the young man had spent a week as a prisoner in the dungeons because, apparently, in 1318 Irish students had been banned from attending Hogwarts on the ground that they might act as spies for Irish rebels.

Harry listened as Ron continued to bemoan 1213 and all those who had existed during that time. Hermione seemed to listening avidly, filtering out Ron's complaints and absorbing his comments about Hogwarts life at that period. Harry didn't care what Hermione thought, he wanted to go to a time where indoor plumbing had been invented.

What surprised Harry was that he hadn't already taken his own 'historical field trip'. He'd taken to carrying a shrunken trunk in his pocket, particularly on Thursdays. He'd remembered again this morning because Ron had just returned the night before.

"And not only that, I missed Halloween! I missed having Troll pudding, you know they only make it once a year."

Harry rolled his eyes, this seemed to be at the top of Ron's list of complaints. Because time sand could land you anywhere, you had no hope that the time you'd wind up in would coordinate with the present. Another reason why Harry's trunk had been fitted with clothes for both warm and cold weather. Knowing Harry's luck he'd spend three weeks in the wilds of pre-Hogwart's Scotland. Hence, he'd included a knife, a bag of gold galleons, a broomstick and his invisibility cloak. Hermione thought he was paranoid. He also made sure to never leave his wand lying around. This time sand could activate at anytime. Blaise Zambini had apparently been taken in the middle of the night while his wand rested uselessly on his night stand in the present. Having to spend the first few days as a supposed muggle-born in 1678 had been an eye-opener for the pureblood Slytherin. Harry didn't know the boy well, but he'd been told that the word mudblood hadn't left his lips since his return.

Needless to say, Harry's wand was attached firmly to the wand holster around his forearm at all times. It made showering difficult.

"Ron, take this seriously. Who was the headmaster, what was he or she like?" Hermione had taken to writing up anything she could about the Hogwart's staff from when the student's visited.

Ron however, was in no mood to discuss history. Turning to Harry he tried to ignore Hermione's prodding. "So, anyone else pop back when I was gone?" he asked.

"Only Lavender, seems see went to 1910. Which is good news considering that when Parvati came back from 1456 she was practically traumatized."

"Bathrooms?" Ron asked.

"Something like that," said Harry dismissively.

"You know I usually think those two are just annoying bits of fluff, but I have to agree. Merlin, never thought I'd agree with Lavender and Parvati. Last night I could have soaked in a bath for hours. Everything just _smells_ so different then. And let's just say that cleaning charms weren't nearly as popular as they should have been."

Harry nodded and took a bite of his toast.

Suddenly Harry froze, an odd tingling feeling started in his stomach and swam through his body like ice through his veins. For a moment he worried if this was a new outburst of magic, usually it burned hot. But then with a shiver of a little dread, he recognized the symptoms that the other time travelers had mentioned.

He wished he could have said good-bye, he knew he wouldn't be seeing his friends again for a few weeks. And Ron had just returned. Oddly enough he did feel somewhat relieved that the waiting was over.

"Woah! Prongs, hell of a good prank. How did you apparate in Hogwarts!" a new voice intruded into Harry's thoughts. The words and the voice made it feel as if someone had thrown a brick into his stomach. Looking up from the toast he'd been eating, he knew what he'd find.

Sirius Black was as handsome and young as he had been the day of Lily and James's wedding. He had thick black hair that hung a little in front of his blue eyes, a healthy face that seemed aglow with mirth and golden from the sun. His lips had curled an expression that Harry knew, one which reveled in a well played prank. Harry was a little sad to know he hadn't seen that expression on his godfather's face as often as he'd have liked.

But he wasn't his godfather. The young man before him wasn't older than seventeen. And Harry realized with a sickening pang exactly what time travel fate he'd drawn.

"Uh excuse me," Harry said with a serious voice. "I really must go see Dumbledore."

Without further ado Harry Potter rose to his feet and fled the Great Hall leaving a somewhat stunned Padfoot behind.

Perhaps he should have guessed, perhaps he should have known from the instant he'd heard the phrase time travel. Ruin seemed to follow in his wake, it was to be expected that he'd be thrown into the same time are his parents' Hogwarts years. Harry walked with steady steps as he gloomily wondered if he would manage to prevent his own birth in the space of a week. Knowing him it was possible.

Yet, as he walked this thin line with disaster, he couldn't avoid the tiniest of smiles. He was smiling, and he didn't know why.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: For previous chapter and all to follow. I am not nor have I ever claimed to own Harry Potter. If I were to ever claim to own Harry Potter, it would be a sure sign of mental collapse.

-

Chapter Two: Time Travel for Beginners

Day: One

-

Albus Dumbledore prided himself on not being easily surprised. Yet, he'd also been fond of the saying that pride cometh before the fall. He was arse over teakettle at the moment.

"So, Professor Binns dusted your class with time sand, sending you to the past, which coincidentally allows you to be in the same period as your parents." Dumbledore eyed the young man speculatively. He was dark haired and with thin wire rimmed glasses, bearing a shocking resemblance to one of his more troublesome sixth years.

Harry paused and nodded. "That is about it. It's a tad more complicated but I'm probably not supposed to tell you anything about the future and considering this isn't that far back in the past…well saying too much would make meddling very easy."

"Ah I see," Dumbledore crossed his hands and tried to look very wise. "If you don't mind me asking what year do you hail from? I must be prepared for when my History of Magic Professor decides to go off his nut and pelt another class."

"1996," Harry paused and leaned back in his chair, giving the headmaster a surveying look. "Now I see why you weren't confused or surprised when you arrived on the scene." He did have a question though, "You wouldn't try and stop it?" he asked.

"Oh Merlin no. Poor Binns does need to vent from time to time, and in truth these sorts of time travels can be excellent learning experiences...although problematic in your case. If I could clear it with the board of governors I'd want every year to experience it, but I don't think the ministry would ever approve."

"Nor the board of governors, I heard Lucius Malfoy wasn't pleased."

"Dear me, that irritable boy becomes a school governor, I'd hoped I'd seen the last of him when he graduated two years ago," said Dumbledore with a sigh. But the man didn't look too surprised.

"Still," Dumbledore's voice was quiet as he examined Harry from behind his spectacles. "I've never had a case of a student arriving at a point so very near their present. And ironically arriving when they are in the same year as their parents…you must have an insatiable knack for trouble," commented the headmaster, his eyes twinkling wildly.

"I'm afraid so," agreed Harry.

Dumbledore smiled, feeling rather at ease with the young man. It wasn't often that a student felt comfortable in the headmaster's office. Even the Marauders tried to look slightly repentant in his presence. Harry exuded nothing but a casual comfort, also the boy was surprisingly familiar with the room. Harry had even known where Dumbledore kept his supply of extra lemon drops, and the boy had helped himself to a few as he'd explained the current situation. All this lead Dumbledore to believe that Harry had been there quite often, and probably not always for matters of discipline. He found himself liking the young time traveler who had introduced himself only as Harry. Although if Dumbledore was a good judge, and he thought he was, the Potter was obvious.

"Well professor, what do you suggest?" Harry asked.

"Hmmm," the headmaster hummed to himself and he considered the situation. "Are you in the same house as your parents? Or parent as the case may be?"

"Yes," stated Harry.

"Now a trickier question. You mentioned meddling in time, and since you know the rule I can gather that you've considered the possibility of altering something. If I let you join your housemates, do you think you can avoid the temptation?" Dumbledore looked at Harry with stern eyes, for an instant they lost their sparkle.

Harry placed his hands behind his back. Could he change things? It wouldn't be that hard, even if he just placed a seed of doubt in people's minds about Peter's loyalty he could possibly change things for the better. But what would that mean? It would leave the world he knew unrecognizable. Without his parents death, his being hailed the 'boy-who-lived', would the wizarding world have managed to endure more years of war with Voldemort?

Before, when he was younger, Harry might have thought it didn't matter. Like any orphan he had always wanted his parents back. And he once might have fiddled with time, might have thought that he was right do so. But now, after seeing all that had been lost in the war with Voldemort, he didn't think that his happiness mattered more than others. Moody had only last summer shown him the group photo of the original Order of the Phoenix. It hadn't been difficult to see that they had been losing, members cut down ever week. But then the Potters had sacrificed everything to give the wizarding world a little more than a decade of peace.

And it had given Harry time. Ever since his latest fight with Voldemort had sent the wizard into a coma, Harry had learned how precious borrowed time could be. It was time for him to prepare, time for him to become ready. The prophecy would come to pass, but with these little bits of borrowed peace, they could all heal and prepare.

"No, I won't change anything," Harry said solemnly. "At least not purposefully," he amended.

Dumbledore had grown still while Harry had thought. The headmaster could see the strain on the young man before him. He looked down in his lap, forcing himself not to ask the questions that he desperately wanted to. Somehow this boy seemed far too old. Perhaps the headmaster only thought so because it was so easy to compare Harry with James Potter. The pair looked very alike, but Albus could never imagine the prankster he knew to behave with such maturity.

"If you think so," said Dumbledore slowly, "Than I see no reason why you shouldn't join your house and year. Perhaps it will give you a chance to have a little fun, I daresay you need it."

"That's what you told me, to think of this as a little vacation," Harry said.

"Well, I'm very wise and have doubtlessly grown more so." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes made Harry laugh. "Or have I perhaps gotten a little madder in my old age?" he inquired.

"No more than is needed," commented Harry somewhat mysteriously.

"Good, at least I don't seem to be boring," the old man said with a cheerfulness.

"No, never that," agreed Harry. While he and the headmaster had their disagreements over the years, he'd admit that Dumbledore was certainly an interesting character.

"Now you're a Gryffindor aren't you?" Dumbledore didn't wait for an answer "I'll call Professor McGonagall up to fetch you. While time travelers do sometimes pop up it has been Hogwart's tradition to keep that fact rather quiet. I'll introduce you as a transfer student who is arriving a little late. Thankfully you've only missed the first day so it likely won't cause much stir at all. Time sand is a little tricky so you have no idea how long you'll be here, we'll just come up with a good explanation when you disappear again. Perhaps a little forgetfulness spell to smooth any disruption. In the mean time act naturally and don't purposefully meddle with time."

"So just not…purposefully?" Harry was still a little nervous about how this charade would occur.

"Time travel has been studied my boy. As long as you don't run around telling people about the future, well things tend to take care of themselves. I even read a paper once which stated that all time travelers were meant to travel, and hence if they didn't travel history would not be as we know it. So I shan't tell you to be too careful. If you were meant to do something, then you've already done it." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair after this comment.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "If you say so," he allowed dismissively.

"That's the spirit, don't worry about things so much. Enjoy you lessons, and consider how wonderful it will be knowing your grades don't matter." He paused and lifted a hand to stroke his long beard. "That's hardly a thing for a headmaster to say," considered Albus pensively.

A knock sounded on the door behind Harry.

"Oh and Harry, to keep things simple I'd suggest sticking to your real history as much as possible. You should be able to keep that straight for a few weeks. And if in doubt, quality education can also be found at Spellwicks Academy. It's a smaller school, which doesn't really exist although a few visitors to Hogwarts have claimed to go there," Dumbledore winked. "Come In, " he said loudly.

Harry nodded at the headmaster as a brunette witch entered the room. She was tall and thin with a slightly harsh jaw line, her eyes were neatly wrinkled already. And while her hair was just becoming streaked with silver, Harry knew it would become even more so in a few decades. Minerva Mcgonagall stood before Harry looking not much different than she would almost twenty years in the future.

"Ah yes, Minerva this is Harry Tempus he's a recent transfer from Spellwicks Academy and already sorted into Gryffindor. Perhaps you could see if the sixth year prefects would lend a hand showing him around."

Harry nodded amicably at his introduction. Trust Dumbledore to choose a last name that practically screamed time traveler. Still Mcgonagall seemed to pay it no mind. "Yes Headmaster," she said politely before leading him out.

The two exited the revolving spiral staircase in silence, but once exiting into the corridor Mcgonagall spoke without looking in Harry's direction.

"It's lucky you've only missed the first day Mr. Tempus," she said primly, "I trust it wasn't possible for you to have arrived at the same time as the other students." The transfiguration professor continued to cut a steady line through the halls as she spoke.

Harry slightly enjoyed his head of House's subtle dressing down. "I'm afraid not professor," he said managing to sound contrite. "Merlin knows I had no say in the matter."

"Well, as I said, it is lucky you are only one day late. I believe we will be able to find the prefects of your year at breakfast. If you'll follow me to the Great Hall."

Harry nodded and swiftly followed in the strict professor's wake, somehow he didn't seem at all worried. Even though he knew full well what introduction was about to occur.

Now that her opinion had been stated, Mcgonagall seemed content to return to her previous silence. The halls became more crowded the closer they got to the Great Hall. Students of all years seemed to be staggering toward their breakfasts, bleary eyed and half asleep. Harry found himself subconsciously looking for familiar faces. He didn't recognize anyone, and perhaps it was better that way.

Harry found himself wondering what he wanted to get out of these couple of weeks. It wasn't as if he was going to have a great deal of time, he couldn't master some magical skill or find a way to defeat Voldemort. And despite the headmaster's advice of making this a vacation, Harry knew the trip wouldn't exactly be relaxing. He'd have to keep on his toes and make sure not to reveal anything about the future. Not to mention Voldemort was alive and well, already entering the height of his power. Harry didn't envy the headaches he would likely be getting.

So what sort of thing could he get out of this odd coincidence. What could he gain from this chance of meeting the parents he had never known.

It didn't take him long to decide, it came to him instantly.

He wanted to know them.

When he was little and growing up at the Dursleys he'd given up any hope of learning about his parents. They had been a subject just as taboo as any of Harry's 'unnaturalness'. But, for the last few years he'd slowly been gaining more facts about them. But it had all been information second hand,from his father's friends. The only first hand knowledge was, disturbingly enough, from the horrors the dementors revealed.

For once he wanted to know something, to know one thing about his parents that no one had to tell him. He knew it would be futile to imagine he could become best friends, he would only be allowed a week or two with them. But to sit and have a conversation with them, to actually know something about them that he knew was real. Everyone wanted to tell him his parents were wonders, his father a hero his mother an angel. That was all well and good, but he wanted to know the truth. They had been people once. He'd make the most of this time, even if he only learned one new thing.

-

Padfoot was still trying to figure out if Prongs was playing some sort of prank on him. Inter-marauder pranking wasn't unusual. It was never very nasty, not like the stuff they set on the Slytherins, but it usually was funny. And Sirius couldn't for the life of him discover the humor in whatever joke Prongs had decided to play.

It had started off a normal day. Or relatively at least, normal was a shifting thing when you friends were pranksters. Sirius had missed dinner the night before, and certain difficulties hadn't made it impossible for him to visit the kitchen, hence he'd awoken this morning more hungry than usual. Other events had conspired so that Sirius had headed down to the Great Hall alone. Peter seemed dead to the world and refused to wake up. Remus had been dragged in to settle some third year quarrel. James was being his usual self and was spending time trying to make his hair stand up in some appealing way. It had long become a losing battle but try telling the Quidditch star that.

Sirius had simply been too hungry to wait. Still he wasn't anti-social. He'd been chatting up a few girls when suddenly, he'd swear on his title as a marauder, James had appeared at the table. He literally meant appeared. He'd even complimented his best mate on a well played prank, only to have James act as if someone had hit him in the gut. He'd stated quite clearly, in an un-Jamesy way, that he needed to see Dumbledore.

Then, not five minute ago, James had waltzed into the Great Hall and was acting as if he had never been there to begin with. It must be a joke, but Sirius didn't understand how it was funny.

So, Sirius continued staring at James with a thoughtful glance, staring quite attentively in fact, until Remus, free of his Prefect duties, had seen fit to comment on it.

"Uh Padfoot, something wrong with the food?" he asked by way of starting a conversation.

Sirius spared one glance at Remus, shook his head in the negative before promptly staring at James again. He did shovel a spoon of eggs into his mouth without losing eye contact.

"James do you have any clue why Padfoot is so enamored with you this morning?" the werewolf asked.

James shrugged as he chewed on a piece of toast. "Don't really know, he was acting all wonky asking how I apparated in Hogwarts and then why I dashed off. I told him I used the door like anyone else but he still seems to think I apparated into breakfast." James yawned after the explanation. It was too early. He was too tired to wonder what new weirdness his best mate had conjured.

Remus shook his head, "You can't apparate into Hogwarts," he decreed.

"I know," grunted Sirius. "That's why I want to know how he did it." After a short pause Padfoot asked, "You aren't having me on, you really didn't apparate in here and run off to Dumbledore?"

James shook his head, "Course not, if I figured something like that out I'd tell you." James grinned at his friend before reaching out for a glass of juice. His eyes flickered off for a moment as he watched a red haired witch take a drink from her own drink.

"Well, Merlin, James I could have sworn I saw you. I must have been delusional with hunger." At this comment Sirius consumed another helping of eggs.

Remus snorted. "Delusional perhaps, but not from hunger."

"Oh hum Ree-mus," moaned Sirius with a full mouth.

Peter stumbled up to the table, his hair still mussed from sleep, his tie askew. "Couldn't you have woken me," he complained in a light manner.

"Tried," James said, shrugging before helping himself to another piece of bacon. "You told us to leave you alone."

Peter sat down with a confused expression, "I did?" He easily let the matter drop and settled down at his own place. Peter reached for the stack of toast and some marmalade. He pushed down his fair hair, trying to see his reflection in a silver pitcher.

Now that all the marauders were gathered around the table, the four closed ranks as it were. Sirius turned, easily ignoring the girls he had been talking to earlier. All four followed a similar movement, turning inward, forming a solid group. Perhaps they had become friends out of necessity, being the only Gryffindor boys in their year. But through whatever way, they were very close. They knew each other's secrets and sore spots. All and all they were closer than brothers. Which was perhaps why they were such effective pranksters. No one would ever betray their little group, and thusly no teacher ever had the slightest bit of proof.

Not that such a little thing as the burden of proof stopped their professors from dishing out punishment.

And speaking of pranks.

"So, how'd it go?" Peter asked glancing in Sirius's direction. He spoke softly but the other boys shushed him just the same. It was etiquette not to mention pranking in the Great Hall, not within easy hearing range of the Professors.

Still, Sirius was rather proud of this little trick and glanced up at the staff table casually. Macgonagall, by far the professor hardest on the four boys, was not in her customary spot. He turned to Peter with a grin and winked. The round boy also smiled.

Yawning dramatically, he began his tale with a solemn whispered voice. "Let's just say that the night of trailing my brother paid off. I managed to get into the Slytherin Common rooms last night. I think our slimy year mates will be entertaining. It's hardly my best, but it works as a good greeting for the snakes."

Remus shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "I can't believe you went through with that, I thought we all agreed that it was simply too dangerous. And alone, what if you had been caught?" The young werewolf tried to preach logic to his friend but Sirius shrugged and looked annoyed.

James looked toward the Slytherin table, at the moment none of the male sixth year Slytherins were there. It was still a little early but it was strange that none of them had made an appearance yet.

Sirius however was still intent on Remus. "Well, Peter was the only one who was willing to help, and he's not the most quiet bloke so I had him wait up in the common room for me. He at least had the true Marauder spirit."

Peter seemed quite proud of this and faced the other two with his chin pointed upward, a slushy smile on his face.

"It's not that we weren't interested in pranking the Slytherin house," appeased James. Of the four Remus and Sirius were the most polar opposite. It was times like these that Remus's caution and reason ran odds with Sirius's recklessness and desire for fun. Still, James knew full well that after this previous summer Sirius felt a strong desire to strike back at Slytherins, so he spoke softly and tried not to let his ire show.

"You know they'll assume it was us," James stated simply. "Isn't it a little early in the year to annoy one-fourth of the school?"

"But they're just the Slytherins, no one else likes them," argued Sirius.

James didn't know how to argue that. "Look, just Remus is right. It wasn't safe, you know most of the top years are probably already aligned with you-know-who. You might not have made it out."

"I can handle myself," argued Sirius.

"I highly doubt that Mr. Black, unless the summer has wrought some impressive changes," spoke a new voice from above. Professor Mcgonagall loomed down on them like the figure of death. All four boys had the sinking suspicion that the firm transfiguration professor had heard all of their previous conversation.

Peter was the first to recover. "Eh, good morning professor," he squeaked in a somewhat nervous tone.

"Good morning Mr. Pettigrew," she responded. But she didn't look in his direction, her eyes narrowed in on another member of their group. "Mr. Lupin could I speak to you for a moment. Mr..." she looked at her elbow only to see no one there. She looked over her shoulder at a boy who had stopped a few paces behind. "Mr. Tempus," she called sharply.

The Marauders all turned to follow her eyeline and spotted a stranger, although for a stranger he looked oddly familiar. Three faces quickly turned to stare at an equally confused James Potter. If James didn't know any better, his twin had just entered the Great Hall. It was clear that his friends agreed. The boy had the same short black hiar, sticking up in the back and just as untamable, the same solid jaw and glasses. His frame was perhaps a little more wiry than their friend, but the similarities were disarming. The boy also seemed to share another prongsy-trait, he had fallen a few steps behind Professor McGonagall and was eyeing a pretty red haired witch with a meaningful expression.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when Mcgonagall called his name.

"Mr Lupin, I'd like you to meet Harry Tempus, Mr. Tempus this is Remus Lupin. He is one of the prefects for your year. Harry Tempus is a new transfer student, he will be joining Gryffindor in your year. Please help him find his classes as well as the common room and your dormitory."

"Um, yes professor," Remus responded politely. Behind him muttering broke out from his friends. Suddenly the James clone was evaluated a little more closely.

James was silent as he examined the new Mr. Tempus. Looking at this Harry fellow a little more closely, he decided that the resemblance wasn't that great. Perhaps it was Harry's posture or the way his expression flickered into a odd, unrecognizable expression. There was also an unkempt quality about Harry. His glasses were a cheap muggle pair, his robes looked a little short and slightly uneven, almost as if someone without much skill had attempted to enlarge them. While their colorings might be almost disturbingly similar, it was clear that Harry didn't take as much time with his appearance, and was thus seriously lacking.

James wouldn't have known that the rest of his friends were thinking along opposite lines of thought.

Remus had also noted the ill-kept nature. Perhaps it was because his own robes were second hand that he noticed another trait that James hadn't picked up on. Harry didn't seem to care. Uniforms were supposed to be the great equalizers. But it wasn't difficult to see who had to make do with second hand and who were given robes tailor made to suit them. And despite this, Harry seemed to hold his head high with a sense of self importance. Rather like James in that sense. Harry stood smiling a nodding in greeting as if he didn't care who was looking, and indeed expected the looks. Very like James indeed.

Sirius was a little more relieved that indeed he hadn't hallucinated this morning's event. Still he frowned at the thought of another dorm mate. The dorm room he shared with his friends was his home, the only refuge he'd had these last few years. He didn't like the idea of a stranger invading their place. Also he was rather curious how someone could look so identical to his best mate. Sirius had spent enough of his summers and holidays with the Potters to know that the elderly Mr. Potter didn't have any family. It must be a coincidence, not matter how unlikely that seemed.

Peter was astounded and honestly very curious about how anyone could look exactly like James. They had the same nose, the same hair. If he didn't know better he'd have said that the boy was James. His eyes flickered to his friends and it seemed they were thinking along the same things. Except Sirius was frowning, about what Peter didn't know. Peter decided to frown too.

"Miss Evans," Mcgonagall called down the table, "I hope you will also help Mr. Tempus should Mr. Lupin be occupied."

Lily Evans looked up from her breakfast. At first her look was all business, until she managed to actually see the student in question. Surprise quickly became the dominant expression, her face as open as a book. Still, she recovered quickly, "Of course Professor, I'll do my best."

Harry grinned at her before turning back to Remus. Professor Mcgonagall had already turned toward the staff table.

"Mind if I sit down," he asked Remus. The werewolf opened his mouth and was about to speak when another presence made itself known.

"Yeah, sit," Sirius stated shrugging, he had other thoughts on his mind. "So it was you right, I mean you were the one that appeared this morning, how did you do that," he interrogated quickly.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that," Harry apologized. He took a seat to Remus's right, almost directly across from Sirius. "You sort of surprised me. The portkey was supposed to take me to Dumbledore's office…but somehow I ended up down here." Harry's face took on a tinge of confusion, but smiled ruefully all the same.

"Portkey, that explains it," Sirius paused and turned to Remus, "Does that explain it?"

"I suppose it could, but I've never heard of a portkey working in Hogwarts," Remus said pensively.

"It just has to have the approval of the headmaster," assured Harry.

They were silent for a moment and Harry reached for a piece of toast, chewing it while the others continued to stare at him. He took in their gazes with a practiced ease, something that the werewolf noted.

"So…why do you look like James?" Peter asked, his squeaky voice. Peter could always be counted upon to ask the obvious.

Harry's eyes narrowed a bit but quashed the homicidal urge to tackle the rat. Looking at the curious four, he decided his course of action with an inner grin.

"Who's James," he asked with a confused tone.

"Uh, me," replied said Marauder.

Harry scrunched his eyes and tilted his head. "Hmm, well, there really isn't that much of a resemblance," he answered with a shrug.

"Not that much!" Peter said incredulously. "You could be brothers."

Or Father and Son, Harry couldn't help but think. "Maybe we're distantly related," he said aloud. "My godfather told me once that practically everyone in the wizarding world is somehow related to everyone else. Least the purebloods are," he said with a shrug.

"Are you a pureblood," Sirius asked with some distaste for the word.

"Half, My dad's family was. My Mum was a muggle born. But they do say I look like my Dad." Harry couldn't avoid a casual glance at his father while he said this. Pictures couldn't quite capture it. Oh there were some definite differences but somehow the similarities seemed to stand out more.

Sirius seemed to relax somewhat. Despite being a pureblood himself, the heir to the Black family was somewhat of a reverse bigot, he distrusted purebloods on principal. Well, except for James.

"So, why are you starting Hogwarts now," Remus asked. He alone seemed to have captured the use of past tense when describing his parent. The werewolf was starting to put together a bit of who Harry Tempus was.

Harry shrugged, "I always wanted to go here. My parents did. It was just more convenient for my Aunt and Uncle to have me go to Spellwicks."

"Spellwicks?" Peter questioned. Both James and Sirius had also cocked their heads in confusion.

"Spellwicks Academy," Harry nodded. "It's a small school in the south. Really more of a tutoring sort of a place then a school. Trains you up for OWLS and NEWTS, but like I said it's pretty small. I only had two other people in my year."

"I think I've heard of it," James cocked his head as he tried to remember. Remus also nodded his head, he had the vaguest feeling he'd read something about it once.

The werewolf shook himself, well perhaps he'd remember another time. "This must be quite the culture shock," he said warmly.

Harry however grinned, "Welcome change really. We didn't even have a Quidditch team."

Remus a Peter seemed to groan a bit while James and Sirius dropped their mouths in shock.

"No Quidditch!" James said, his voice surprisingly squeaky.

"Real tragedy I know, but there simply weren't enough people for one team, let alone having teams to play against. Also," Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste, "most of the people there tend to take their studies rather seriously."

"You poor poor boy," Sirius said solemnly. He seemed to have quickly adjusted to Harry's presence. Indeed, Harry seemed to have easily positioned the conversation in a manner that placed the Marauders at ease.

" But studies are important..." Remus's protest died on his lips, both James and Sirius's gazes were enough to boil water.

"Why'd you get sent there?" James asked, some horror in his voice.

"Well it was closer than Hogwarts, my Aunt and Uncle thought it seemed like a better school. It took them awhile, but I got some good OWLs scores so I convinced them to let me come here," answered Harry. Really his ability to spin a web of lies was surprising even himself. Still, he did have a tendency to keep secrets, perhaps it wasn't surprising that he was such a good liar.

"You know it is really too bad that Harry here wasn't with us when we where younger. Can you imagine the fun we'd have had mixing the teachers up. You and James could have flip flopped all the time." Sirius's eyes were misty with the thought of all the missed opportunities for pranking.

Harry couldn't help but grin at the look of his godfather's face. Trust Sirius to only think about pranks.

The Great Hall was rapidly losing students and Remus looked at his watch. "We better hurry and get to class," the prefect lectured his friends. "We have transfiguration first thing and if we're late to Mcgonagall's class she'll give us a week of detentions."

"A week, that sounds a little harsh?" Harry commented.

Remus looked a little embarrassed. "Yeah well I think she's still a little sore about something James and Sirius did at the end of the year."

The two pranksters in question looked very innocent when Moony glanced their way. "Don't know what you're taking about," James said with a soft voice.

"Oh come on, lets just not be late." Remus turned towards Harry, "You are taking transfiguration aren't you?"

"Yep," Harry answered with a grin. He'd been particularly proud, and surprised, when he'd received an outstanding in that class. Still it was a good thing, as he needed that NEWT if he were to become an Auror.

"That's good. What other classes are you taking," Remus asked. "I don't mean to pry but if I'm showing you around..." Remus grabbed Peter's robes as everyone began to leave, dragging the boy away. Peter snagged one more piece of toast and jam before following along.

"Potions, Defense against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Herbology," Harry rattled off the list.

"Good, I'm taking the same classes. Well, Ancient Runes as well..."

"Geek," snorted Sirius from behind them. He and James feel in to step behind Remus. They never could understand why he took his prefect duties so seriously. Still, Tempus seemed like a good bloke, if perhaps a little too studious. His class list was a little on the heavy side for a NEWT year class. Most students dropped down to four or five total after their OWLs. Trust Remus to be even worse and take seven, that's right seven, Newt level classes.

But Sirius's mutter didn't seem to merit much attention, Remus ignored him out of habit. "It's really very practical," he argued to Harry, "particularly if you ever want to work towards spell construction, or even learning more complicated spells."

Remus continued rattling off some of the high points in learning ancient runes, Harry only partially listened, he vividly remembered Hermione reciting a similar list in their third year.

They had exited the Great Hall and were about to climb the stairs toward the second floor when suddenly, shooting from Harry's left, a murky yellow spell shot in his direction. Without even thinking Harry quickly erected a shield charm, reflecting the spell back to where it had come.

It had come from a direction that led to the dudgeons, and it wasn't difficult to see who had sent it. A group of boys with green and silver ties stood poised there, glaring with hard cold eyes. But, it was a little difficult to take them entirely seriously considering they had all grown uni-brows and a few were sporting more hair on their faces than was on their heads, they looked like werewolves from black and white muggle horror movies.

"I know it was you Potter," called a somewhat familiar voice. The face the voice belonged to was almost entirely hidden behind thick, rather greasy, black hair.

Harry had turned, his wand raised, an excellent fully formed blue shield separating him from the Slythrins. It was then that Harry remembered he wasn't a Potter.

"Excuse me?" he asked politely, an edge of warning in his voice.

The black hairy face stepped forward, fists clenched. From behind him other scowling faces came forward as well. Snape didn't seem to be the leader of these boys, he was merely the maddest and had been the first to shoot off a curse.

"Snape," Remus's voice intruded. His voice was an attempt at intervention, but there was a definite lack of force behind the words.

"Stay out of this, this is between me and Potter!" the future Potions Master fumed. The other Slytherins seemed more than happy to let their house mate tackle the Marauders. In true Slytherin fashion, they much rather have someone else be fighting their battles.

"Then maybe you should talk to me," James, who had been watching the event from beside Sirius stepped forward and stood beside Harry.

If the hair didn't hide Snape's expression, Harry figured a look of utter disgust must have crossed the Slytherin's face. "Merlin, don't tell me your parents found another way to multiple," scorn dripped from his every word.

Harry could sense the situation devolving. James practically radiated rage. He'd seen this sort of scene in a pensieve once. The enmity between the two was so extreme that it didn't take much to enrage either party. However, Harry had been on the receiving end of a barrage of insults from an adult Severus Snape. His current standards were below average, certainly not enough to produce James's level of rage.

"What's the matter Snivellous, finally take a good look in the mirror and not like what you see? Bout time." James mocking comment and smirk were not helping matters. Harry knew first hand that Severus Snape was not the sort of person who could take a joke.

And he was right. "Damn you, I'm not taking your pranking shite anymore," the enraged ball of fur yelled. Behind him the Slytherins grinned happily. "Sectemsapra!" Snape yelled.

Harry responded quickly, he had more than enough power to spare and he poured it into his shield. The shield's shape and color shifted slightly. It became more sliver than blue, arching wider and into a sharper V. Snape's spell bordered on Dark Magic a more powerful shield than a simple Protego was needed to block it.

But Harry had been hit with worse. The shield reacted as it was supposed to. The magic absorbed the red spell Snape had sent in James's direction. With a silent twist of his wand, Harry managed to disarm the angry Slytherin.

Snape now stood before them without a wand, the hair blocked his face hiding his expression.

James swung an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Not so tough now, eh Snivellous," mocked James.

Sirius had joined them, "Not so powerful are we slimy little snake?" Sirius cuffed Harry on the shoulder, grinning with obvious pleasure.

"I think we should teach him a lesson, no dueling in the corridors right mates," stated James. He dark haired boy lifted his wand, one of his favorite spells on his lips...only to have his wand ripped from his hand. Sirius's wand quickly followed suit.

"What the– " James shot a glance at the other Slytherins, but he couldn't see a wand in any of their hands. Anyway, it wasn't Slytherin's style to come to the aide of a fallen dorm mate.

Instead both Sirius and James were forced to look closer to home.

Harry Tempus still stood by their side. His expression slightly harsh, his green eyes standing out more than before. Three wands were clutched in his left hand, Snape's and their own.

"Tempus?" Sirius asked, an angry edge to his voice.

But Harry merely shrugged away from him. He was filled with disgust at the scene unfolding, he'd been disgusted that day in the pensieve when he'd witnessed something similar. He wasn't about to play a role in it. It had felt good for a moment to have his father and godfather surround him proudly, but he wasn't going to be party to any bullying. He'd been on the receiving end enough to hate that sort of pastime. He shot a glance at Remus, but the young prefect merely avoided his eyes and looked downward.

"What's your deal mate," Sirius asked, a harder edge to his voice.

James too felt the edges of annoyance. Here they had almost been attacked by Slytherins and some new kid, from their own house, had taken their wands. There was a distinct feeling of anger boiling in James's gut. Who did this Tempus kid think he was?

Both Sirius and James managed their fiercest glares, but Harry didn't budge.

"Look maybe you don't understand," Sirius said, his voice was warmer but still with a slight edge. "These are Slytherins nasty little dark toe-rags. They'd curse you as soon as look at you, a bunch of muggle hating tossers."

Whatever reaction Sirius had been hoping for, he didn't get it. Harry's stance didn't change. Indeed the glances he shot James and Sirius left little doubt what he thought of their behavior.

"Where you the ones that cursed them first," Harry asked calmly. He nodded his head toward Snape and the others, the uni-brows and furry faces not seeming quite so funny.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius answered.

James could have cursed, Sirius's tone left little doubt who the culprit was.

Harry paused for a moment, he looked in Snape's direction, only the Slytherin's eyes were visable, cold and calculating. Harry didn't like the Potions Master, but how much of the man's future attitude was created by his current treatment.

And his father...who and what was James Potter. Harry's palm opened and he dropped the wands to the floor, allowing the wooden rods to clatter about the stone tiles. Their owners scurried to their feet, stumbling after the rolling wands.

But Harry wasn't paying attention anymore, he's already turned and was climbing the stairs. Harry knew it wasn't 'constant vigilance' to turn your back on someone who might very well wish you harm. But Harry couldn't help but hope his father and godfather weren't so bad as to curse someone from the back. "Transfiguration, right?" Harry said with a nod toward Remus.

"Uh yeah," the werewolf responded. He quickly turned to keep up with Harry. He shot a look back at his friends only to see the three, Sirius, James and Peter, still standing at the bottom of the steps. Either too stunned or mad to respond yet. The Slytherins had already left.

"We'll be late," Harry looked down at his watch before looking back up.

"Right," Remus nodded. The prefect's mouth felt dry. Many times he'd wanted to stop his friends from fighting with the Slytherins, he just didn't possess the confidence to go against the only friends he had ever had. He wondered if Harry Tempus knew what he was getting into. He turned and watched as the other boy steadily climbed the stairs, no looking back at the glares from below.

Remus sighed, he knew full well he wouldn't be able to help the situation. Perhaps he could talk Lily into...he hated to shirk the burden that Mcgongall had set on him, but he knew where his loyalties lay.

Harry and Remus entered the class room.

"Umm here we are," Remus said with a shrug. "I'm just gonna..." Remus nodded towards the door and quickly ducked away.

Harry nodded knowingly. It seemed his plans to know his parents had already taken a dive. Harry quickly settled into a seat near the window and looked out tiredly. He'd only wanted to learn one thing right? Well he'd learned a summer certainly hadn't improved his father's behavior. Harry knew on some level that was unfair for him to expect this James Potter to be his father. This boy was sixteen, he'd led a pampered life and spent his time planning pranks and mooning over girls. It was a youth far removed from Harry's own.

"I thought Remus was supposed to show you around," a female voice said to his left.

Harry turned to see Lily take a seat at his left, she settled her book bag at her feet. Harry could easily tell that she was the academic sort, her bag seemed to burst with books. She had already begun taking out books, parchment and quills. Once her things were settled she turned towards him with an upraised eyebrow.

"Oh well, I think I insulted some of his friends," Harry acknowledged.

Lily leaned back in her chair, she accessed him with critical eyes. "To your credit I'm sure," she said with a smile. "Those boy are such...such," she shook her hands in the air, unable to find words to convey her frustration.

She coughed and raised her chin. "Well don't worry I'll show you around," she flipped her hair after she spoke. Harry had the feeling that she enjoyed being prefect.

"Thanks," he replied.

Lily turned to gaze at him curiously. "You must have done well on your OWLs to make it into NEWT level Transfiguration, half our class couldn't or didn't," her speech was somewhat clipped and professional Harry noticed. Oddly it was comforting. His mother's voice always brought to mind screams, perhaps that was what happened when dementors were how you got to know your parents.

"Do you like Transfiguration," Harry asked. His own tone mimicked hers, despite the fact that he was honestly curious. Even with Sirius's stories, Lily Potter was very much of an unknown to him.

She scrunched her nose thoughtfully, "Hmm, not my favorite. But it is terribly useful. I suppose I prefer Charms. Transfiguration takes one thing and turns it into another, Charms just seems to make stuff happen." She smiled softly, as if remembering something.

"Like 'real' magic," Harry questioned her logic.

Lily grinned, "Exactly... I'm a muggle born," she stated the last part somewhat defensively, "And I suppose just when I was a little girl and thought about magic, I just thought more of Charms and such."

Harry nodded. "I thought magic was card tricks and such. I saw a magic show on the telly when I was little once, my Aunt pitched a fit when she saw what my cousin and I were watching, she shut it off and then my Cousin had an even larger tantrum." Harry reminisced about his own childhood. It wasn't something he did often. Disliking the past he was more likely to live in the present. He noticed Lily's curious eyes, "Oh, my Aunt isn't fond of magic, I think she finds it unnatural or something."

Lily shook her head, "Oh I know. My sister thinks witches and wizards are like the characters in movies, like the witch in the Wizard of Oz." Lily was opening up slightly. She fiddled with her quill as she spoke. "I tried to show her some of things I can do, you know during Christmas break when we're allowed. But she just made me so mad. I finally just changed her tea cup into a frog, that's all she thinks magic is."

Harry leaned back amused at this story, he wished he knew more about the strange relationship these two sisters shared. "She doesn't like magic?" he wondered aloud.

Lily rolled her eyes, "She would if she knew how wonderful it can be. I suppose the bad is just easier to see sometimes. She found one of my school books about Magical creatures once, and of course she had to read about only the scary creatures first. I tried showing her unicorns and kneazles and such, she's convinced we're all monsters." Lily seemed somewhat sad as she said this. In a moment she shook her red hair, almost as if to shake off the emotion. She turned back to him with shining green eyes. "But oh well. It doesn't matter much."

If only you knew, Harry thought.

Harry looked up as the Marauders traisped in. If looks could kill. Peter it seemed hadn't made it into Transfiguration, the three remaining boys settled in the back. Sirius and James in particular were looking at Harry as he was a particularly disgusting zit, one which they'd enjoy squeezing out of existance.

Lily's eyes widened, "You certainly did get on their bad side, what did you do?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but quickly shut it when Mcgonagall entered. The strict Professor gazed at her somewhat small class before sliding the door shut with a snap.

"Well I'm proud of those of you who decided to continue onto NEWT level Transfiguration. These next few years will not be easy and if you are doubting your conviction I ask that you consider changing classes. We will be working with human transfiguration, not something to be meddled with lightly."

Harry began to zone out when he realized that this speech was almost identical to the one he had received at the beginning of the year. Considering that his time line was over two months ahead of this one Harry had a feeling that he might be in store for quite a bit of repetition. Of course all the teachers wouldn't be the same and the curriculum must have changed some in twenty years...not that any of this mattered. In a week of so he'd bee swept back to his own timeline.

Harry glanced sideways in Lily's direction. Despite her comment that she enjoyed Charms more, his mother's attention was fully on Professor Mcgonagall. The professor's claim that human transfiguration was both difficult and dangerous only seemed to excite the red head.

"Today we will begin taking notes on some of the dangers of human transfiguration–

Harry stared out the window. Maybe he should try and become an animagi. Had his father accomplished it already? He thought he remembered Sirius saying that they had finally accomplished it in their fifth year, not long before OWLS. Harry's gaze shifted back to the three Marauders, he didn't mind Peter's absence. They were prats, but they couldn't be all bad. Not if they had taken such a risk to help out a friend.

Transfiguration passed slowly. Harry finally pulled out some parchment and proceeded to doodle on it while Mcgonagall went on and on about how a poorly done human transfiguration could result in death. She added a few horror stories about a few people who had never been able to un-transfigure something, including one wizard who was stuck with a pencil as finger. Harry had laughed at that, he simply hadn't been able to help it. The head of Gryffindor house had given him a very stiff look.

Still, despite Harry's sense of humor, most of the class exited with rather pale expressions. One hufflepuff girl seemed a little green after hearing about a wizard who become half a tiger, apparently the wrong half, and had eaten his entire family.

Harry was still wondering if having a pencil for a finger was such a tragedy. You'd never have to worry about finding something to write with. Although he wondered if it hurt to sharpen?

"That was enlightening," a voice said by his side.

Harry turned to watched as Lily followed beside him, lugging her heavy bag of books. "Yeah I guess," he replied.

"You should have at least pretended to listen," the girl stated with a high and mighty look.

"I listened," Harry argued. Not today per se, but he had listened to Mcgonagall's fearful lecture once before.

"Sure, what other classes do you have?" she asked.

Harry once again rattled off the list. He supposed he should be glad that Lily seemed happy enough to help him out. Remus has disappeared moments after class had finished. Not that he really needed someone to show him around, but his sudden appearance would seem less unusual if he had a tour guide with him.

Lily pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I have most of those classes. Not Care of Magical Creatures, I'm taking Arithmancy instead, and ancient Runes. And of course the additional seminar in History of Magic," she trailed off. "Hence the heavy bag," she said with a shrug.

Harry grinned and tapped the canvas bag with his wand. The simple featherlight charm made Lily stop in her tracks.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that," she muttered. She swept some of the red hair off her face and smiled up at him.

"Don't thank me. One day I thought my back was going to break from the weight of my bag and one of my friends just says to me, 'there is this thing called magic Harry,' and then she tapped my bag just like that," Harry's impression of Hermione was spot on. Lily didn't know that but Harry's falsetto voice made her giggle.

"I suppose in the muggle world you just get used to such things as having heavy bags," Lily said pensively once she had stopped laughing.

"That's the thing, Hermione is a muggle born and she thought of it before me and my other friend did," explained Harry.

"Hmmm, I suppose we're just dense then," she said with a shrug. She smiled up at her eyes teasing.

Harry laughed and nudged her playfully. "Speak for yourself." He lifted his chest, lifting his hand he made an attempt to slick his hair back like Malfoy.

Lily snorted.

His mother had just snorted. Harry found himself feeling more and more comfortable with the red head. His mother was somewhat like Hermione, bookish and strict about classes. But she was also somewhat silly now that she had relaxed some. She didn't seem worried about giggling foolishly in the hallway. Her thick red hair swung about and she laughed.

Harry noticed that she didn't wear make-up. She was still pretty, but it wasn't a made-up glamourous sort of image. She was nice, perhaps a little opinionated. If his father had been a disappointment, his mother was a wonderful surprise.

"Oh we have, Herbology next," Lily commented. Harry continued to follow her. "It's a good class. Of course now we're dealing with more dangerous plants. We actually already had one class yesterday, so I suppose you'll have to ask Professor Pod about it."

Harry paused and frowned wondering where Professor Sprout was.

"We have more independent work this year. Some sort of project I think. He's..." Lily paused trying to think of a way to explain Professor Pod. "Well he'd a little forgetful. We were supposed to go other the syllabus in class but we ended up discussing the plants he saw while visiting Egypt this summer."

Harry grinned, "Sounds like a nice guy."

"He's the head of Hufflepuff," Lily replied as if that settled the matter. Perhaps it did.

The two cut across the grounds. The weather was still somewhat warm, it wouldn't be long though before they would need their outer cloaks before crossing to Herbology. But the day was currently beautiful, sun streaked the green grass of the Hogwart's lawn. Harry found himself subconsciously glancing towards Hagrid's hut. The gamekeeper wasn't about. It was somewhat disheartening to know that the friendly half giant wouldn't be teaching Care of Magical Creatures.

It wasn't long before Lily lead him to greenhouse five. It was the last of the green houses and was known for housing some of the most dangerous plants.

A few other students had gathered. One girl was gazing enraptured at a large purple flower that seemed to snoring.

"Alice," Lily greeted. The red head sidled up beside the blonde.

"O hello," the blonde greeted without turning, "How was Transfiguration?" Finally she turned to look at Lily and seemed to choke. Harry's reaction wasn't much different, although he hid it better.

Unaware of Harry's consternation, Lily ignored him and patted her friend's back roughly, Alice pushed her away. "Lily have you lost your mind?" the blonde asked.

Harry was thinking she should be asking him that. Looking at Alice Longbottom, or whatever her name was now, was almost like looking at Neville in drag. He'd thought they looked similar, the same round face and open eyes, but to see Alice when she was sane and the same age as her son...well like him and his father the similarities were disarming.

"Huh?" Lily answered. She looked at her best friend in confusion.

"What are you doing hanging out with James Potter?" Alice shot Harry a look that implied a deep sense of dislike.

Lily whipped her head around looking nervously, as if James Potter was about to leap out from behind a bush. "Huh?" she asked again, this time her own eyes mirroring confusion.

Alice nodded her head in Harry's direction and Lily sighed. "Don't startle me like that. This isn't James, this is Harry Tempus. Although I agree they do look scarily similar."

Once again Lily's eyes landed on him, Alice's as well. Both of the ladies seemed to be catalog his appearance. Harry grinned nervously.

"You aren't related are you?" Alice asked.

"Not that I know of," Harry lied.

"Harry's far to nice to be related to James Potter," Lily declared.

Without knowing why Harry found himself coloring somewhat. Compliments made him uncomfortable, but hearing his mother's firm statement of fact somehow seemed to overpower even his well controlled emotions.

Alice shrugged, "Well, it will be nice that he and Black seem to have dropped Herbology. Last year they made such a mess with those Flobbsters, you remember?"

Lily grimaced.

Alice smiled and turned to Harry, "James Potter is usually pretty good at his studies, but seems to have trouble whenever he's paired with Lily." Alice's brown eyes, so like her son's, teased Lily warmly.

"Alice," Lily groaned, "He doesn't like me, I'm just the only girl who has ever turned him down. I think he takes it as a challenge," Lily seemed to be bemoan her fate. She dug into her bag pulling out 1001 Magical Herbs and Funguses, her NEWT text for Herbology. "Anyway, at least I had the good taste to turn him down," she shot a withering look at her friend.

Alice cringed, "I was a third year," she said, the tone of her voice implied that the excuse had been used many times.

"If I had to endure another week of you telling me how cute he was and how good at quidditch I'd have had you committed," Lily stated.

Harry grinned. His dad had dated Neville's mom...well that was something new.

"I was young and impressionable," Alice stated, once again her excuse seemed more habit than convincing.

The Herbolgy doors opened and Remus Lupin entered. He seemed to be the only one among the Marauders who had decided to continue advanced Herbology. He looked around, seeming somewhat out of his depth when he wasn't surrounded by his friends. He spotted Harry and seemed to cringe. Harry knew that his future professor had always been slightly embarrassed to follow his friends, doing so more out of extreme loyalty rather than logic.

"Remus," Harry greeted loudly. He nodded in the prefects direction.

Seemingly against his will Remus slowly approached the three other Gryffindors. "Hello, Lily, Alice, um..Harry," he greeted politely.

"Remus," Alice said warmly.

Remus glanced at Lily. She wasn't looking at him too coldly, he'd expected sub-zero temperatures considering he'd practically abandoned Harry onto her.

The four stood silently watching as more students entered. No more Gryffindors but a fair few Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Harry found he didn't have to wonder long about the house interaction. Not much had changed from his time. The five Slytherins in the class seemed content to only associate with themselves and the Ravenclaws, they kept a good distance from the Gryffindors. There seemed to be more Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in Harry's opinion. Maybe it was just the class, but either way there seemed to be an abundance of blue and yellow ties.

"Are there more people in the other houses?" Harry asked aloud. He vaguely recalled some similar distribution in Transfiguration as well.

"Yes," Lily answered softly. "What with everything going on..." Lily's dark tone left little doubt about what she was speaking, "well in the last eight years or so Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses have had larger populations than Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"I read an article in the Quibbler attributing it to mold growing on the Sorting hat," Alice said with a laugh.

Still Harry face crinkled in thought, "That's odd..." he commented.

"Not really," Remus added. "In the last eleven years most victims of 'unnatural' deaths came from either Gryffindor or Slytherin."

Harry's eyes narrowed. Arthur Weasley had always said that they couldn't understand what the world had been like during Voldemort's first reign. It was hard to believe that it would impact sorting. But Harry knew full well that the Sorting Hat tended to listen to whoever's head it rested on. It wasn't impossible for the terror surrounding Voldemort to impact the viewpoints of even eleven year-olds.

Harry was about to ask more, but suddenly a rather chubby man emerged from behind a bush. He was very tall and very fat, dressed in a green robe it wasn't surprising that he had blended in with the flora. His hair was gray and stood up in scattered tufts. The man was looking on the ground and muttering to himself before looking upward, he smiled as if suddenly noticing the collection of students before him.

"Oh hello," he greeted warmly. "Time for class?" the man asked, rather than looking at his watch he looked up at the sun. "Few more minutes I suppose," he stated. He looked among the students eagerly, his eyes landed on Harry and grinned.

"Excellent , excellent," he said. Professor Pod, as that was who Harry took this man to be, walked with a slight limp. It made him walk with a constant shuffle, and he shuffled toward Harry with interest.

"Mr. Tempus I presume, excellent, excellent. Professor Dumbledore mentioned you'd be joining my class. Well I trust you'll be okay. I'm certain your fellow Gryffidors will give you a hand if you need it."

"Yes Professor," Lily answered.

"Excellent, Lily, Excellent. Do you have a green thumb Harry, isn't that an excellent muggle saying."

Harry found himself staring at he man, he was downright peculiar. He wasn't very Sprout-like.

"Professor I was telling Harry that we're going to work on independent projects this year," Lily offered.

Professor Pod was staring at Harry's forehead. "That looks like it hurt," he muttered.

Harry quickly rearranged his hair to cover the lighting bolt scar that had become visible.

"Professor," Lily reminded.

"Oh yes, individual projects. I thought I have you try and cultivate some rare species. I have a list from some of the Herbology Magazines of some the rarer plants today. We should start a little preserve here. I thought I'd have you all pick one and work on it this year. I really must find that list."

At this professor Pod turned to the rest of the class.

"Class!" he called aloud, "Whoever finds a long list of plant names will get to pick their project first! Check in the mulch, I've been mulching."

Soon the entire class was doing just that. A few students had dropped onto their hands and knees and were looking under plants. The Slytherins refused to do this and were looking without becoming filthy. Harry had to bat back a vivid green vine that was trying to twist around his wrist. Recognizing the Devil's snare he cast a warming charm and the plant backed away. He decided to move on to another place anyway.

By the end of class no one had found the list, although three students had been poisoned by a pretty pink flower, another had been partially digested by a plant that resembled a dead tree, and two others had accidentally disturbed baby mandrakes and were sleeping next to a pile of manure.

Harry had a feeling that this was how Herbology class usually went.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Parents are People Too

Day: One-continued (and with little hope in sight.)

-

Soon it was time for lunch and Harry followed the other dirty Gryffindors to the Great Hall. Remus was quick to distance himself from Harry when they entered. Lily frowned but Harry wasn't surprised. Lily and Alice seemed more than eager to sit far away from the Marauders. They settled themselves and Harry found himself sitting across from Lily. He liked being able to see her face.

His mother was so...innocent.

She tried to act tough and her language about the marauders wasn't holy. Harry watched her as she ranted, on his behalf, about how terrible they were. The current topic was 'and I always thought Remus was so much better than the rest of them, but he's just as immature and unreliable.' Alice seemed used to it and was trying to decide what to have for lunch. Harry could tell that Lily was smart, and she portrayed that persona harshly. But her face was an open book. Her every feeling on display. Harry had learned to harshly suppress this in himself. Dark Lords out for your life, Spies and Slytherins, rabid fan girls...he couldn't let everyone know what he thought and felt. There were very few now that brought that mask down.

But Lily Evans was innocent. She'd never fought for her life. She hadn't faced her own death, alone. She didn't have some prophecy hanging over her head. Harry's past contained such things and he knew the future would hold these things for her, but right now she seemed utterly untouched by the harshness of this world.

He found himself smiling as he watched her continued tirade.

Lily looked up and she flushed somewhat, her embarrassment obvious. Alice, who had been seated beside her was wondering when the somewhat dense red head would notice that Harry was staring at her.

"I guess I tend to rant," she admitted apologetically.

"Really," Harry asked. His green eyes crinkled together with some unreadable emotion.

Alice bit her lip. She looked between the two not certain what she was seeing here. A moment ago she might have thought another dark haired boy had a crush on her somewhat obtuse friend, now she wasn't certain.

"Lo Alice," said a deep voice, a thud on the bench next to her.

The blonde turned with a smile."Frank," she said, her expression lightening into a smile.

"Hi Frank," Lily greeted. "This is Harry Tempus, he's a transfer from...you know I didn't ask where you came from," Lily asked.

"Spellwicks," answered Harry. "Nice to meet you," he said to Frank.

Frank _Longbottom,_ Harry assumed, was a little taller than Neville. His hair was dark and a little curly. His brown eyes were warm and he smiled a greeting to Harry.

"Frank is the prefect a year above us, And he's my boyfriend," Alice said the last bit with a grin.

Frank ruffled his hair, a somewhat proud smile on his face. "How was Herbology?" he asked Alice. Her face still had a smudge of dirt and the man wiped at it with his napkin.

Alice raised an eyebrow at the gesture but fought a grin. "Alright, Professor Pod seems to be even more addled this year," she commented. "We spent the whole class looking for a list he misplaced."

"I still don't see why no one summoned it?" Harry offered. Towards the end of class he'd nearly smacked himself for forgetting the handy charm. Alice had stopped him before he'd had a chance to cast it.

"Because as soon as we found the list he'd have had us do something else pointless, it was just better to spend the rest of the class looking than have him assign us to manure the Ficckle Fits or trim the hanging Dandles."

Lily frowned, "Alice why are you even taking that class you can't stand half the things we do in it."

Alice shrugged, "It was recommended for healing. I just don't have that green thumb he natters on about."

"I overheard Flitwick say that he was trapped in some sort of giant flower for a few days while in Egypt," offered Frank with a shrug.

"I don't think I've ever heard of Spellwicks," Lily said taking the discussion away from Herbology.

"I think I have," Frank averred with a thoughtful look on his face.

"It's pretty small, I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't heard of it." Harry's shrug and dismissive tone allowed the topic to drop.

Soon the conversation switched to other topics, Hogwart's gossip was a little more varied in this time. Everyone seemed to still be catching up on things that had happened over the summer. Frank was a member of the pureblood elite, even if he didn't act the part. Apparently Madame Longbottom was somewhat of a gossip and he seemed well briefed on all the engagements and arrangements that had occurred during the two months. The big news had involved the engagement of Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy. The Malfoy heir had graduated a few years ago but Narcissa was currently a seventh year.

"So that is why she went blonde," Alice said glancing over to the Slytherin table where a slender young woman with a sour expression was eating primly.

"Apparently all Malfoy's have to be," Frank said with a grimace.

"I'm just glad her sister graduated, she was – vindictive," Lily said with hesitation on the last word.

"The term is bitch," Alice casually disagreed.

The chill around the table left Harry little doubt which of Narcissa's sisters Lily was referring to. It was hard to imagine Bellatrix Lestrange as a Hogwart's student.

The three others continued chatting. Harry would occasionally look up when a last name sounded familiar. Otherwise, he found himself watching the group around him. Alice was obviously his mother's best friend, if indeed her only real friend. Frank was a new addition, but being a friendly bloke he seemed to get on with Lily well. Harry's expression grew a little stony when he considered the futures of the people before him.

Still, tragic as the Longbottom's future was, it did explain a few things. Harry had always wondered why no friends of his mother had stepped forward to swap stories. Sirius and Remus were more than happy to tell him tales of his father, but they really only spoke of Lily in conjunction with James. He never heard her stories. Harry smiled softly as he watched her laugh and joke with her friends. For the first time ever, she was becoming real.

-

James glared down the table.

Alright, he'd pretty much hated Severus Snape since they had met on the train to Hogwarts in his first year. Ever since that day he'd been positive that there was no one he could hate more. The Slimy slytherin seemed to go out of his way to piss him off. They were simply opposites, oil and water.

Well, he'd been wrong. In the space of a few hours Harry Tempus was rising to the top of his 'people I hate list'. (He actually had a list, something that made Moony roll his eyes.)

"I can't believe he's sharing a dorm with us," James fumed aloud.

Remus said nothing, this was the third time James had said something to this effect. The first time he had offered a hesitant defense. Now he didn't even try.

"I know mate, maybe we can convince him to transfer away eh?" Sirius suggested with a feral grin.

"You really think we can?" Peter asked in between bites of sandwich.

Remus stared into his food and tried to ignore the eagerness of all three boys.

"It couldn't be that hard," reflected James. "We don't even have to find a way to sneak into his dorm room."

Remus was convinced that arguing the point wouldn't solve anything. James and Sirius, with Peter tagging along, would find some way to torment their new dorm mate. Maybe he could switch houses?

Cause either way you looked at it, Harry Tempus was doomed.

-

"Double Care of Magical Creature?" Harry said aloud. Lily had given him her schedule, and he was examining it thoughtfully. He couldn't recall ever having a double Magical Creatures class.

"It's your NEWT year," Lily explained with a reasonable voice. "Apparently Professor Kettlerburn is going to be handling very dangerous creatures."

Harry fought a smile. Maybe his previous experiences would leave him better prepared. Hagrid's idea of tame had included three-headed dogs and dragons. "I suppose it makes sense," he agreed with Lily. "Also only once a week,"he said with a shrug.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to spend the afternoon outside. "I guess you're headed to Arithmancy," Harry stated. Given the choice he knew where he'd rather be.

"Yep," Lily said with a grin. She seemed honestly excited about it, no one had mentioned that his mother was mad.

Alice and Frank had left earlier, Lily had mentioned something about the future Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom finding a good broom closet. So, Harry and Lily walked out of the Great Hall together.

Lily looked up when she spotted a retreating back exiting the front doors, "Remus," she called to her fellow prefect.

She got no response from the sandy haired boy. Turning to Harry she tried to grin reassuringly. "Maybe he didn't hear me," she said.

"Sure," Harry replied knowingly. "I'm sure I can find my way, see you at dinner tonight?"

"Okay, well have a good lesson and try and avoid those Marauders. It's just like them to plan a prank with dangerous magical creatures around." Her voice had taken on a somewhat maternal tone.

Harry found himself smiling as he nodded his head. His mother's first piece of advice had been to avoid his father. It was ironic and somewhat funny, but perhaps sound. He knew full well that his father and his friends didn't always play safely. Later this year Sirius's little joke would nearly get Snape killed. Not that it would be that terrible of a loss... kidding. Just kidding. Really he was only half serious.

"Bye," he said turning to leave.

"Bye," Lily called softly.

Harry wasn't certain where Care of Magical Creatures was held in this time. Usually they gathered around Hagrid's hut, but that wasn't likely. Still, it shouldn't be too difficult to find a gathering of students. He spotted two black heads and one sandy heading towards the forbidden forest, with some hesitation he followed.

-

Professor Kettleburn was a short man with a bristly brown beard. He only had three fingers on his left hand, and one ear looked more than a little mangled. All and all, he was more whole than Harry remembered him to be. He could recall an older version of the man limping around minus one arm and a leg. But Kettleburn didn't seem to mind his impending amputations and was smiling cheerily at them all. His brown eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Great, been waiting for sixth year, going to be fun. I've got some treats for you."

Kettleburn marched around, taking attendance and muttering about what a great year they had planned. They had gathered on the west lawn, the forbidden forest far enough away to be comforting, but close enough to make the class wonder what sort of inhabitant was intended for this class. By the size of the large crate behind their professor, it certainly wasn't a kneazle.

The class was large, which was perhaps understandable considering it looked as if all the houses were represented. A few Slytheirns, quite a showing of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and a couple Hufflepuffs, who looked more excited than any of them. The Marauders, minus Peter were there. (Harry was actually becoming curious about what classes Peter was taking, he hadn't seen the little rat in lessons thus far.) Besides the marauders, there were also two Gryffindor girls that Harry hadn't met previously. Both had black hair trimmed short, and were rather athletic looking. Indeed, this class seemed made up of people who didn't scare easily. Two of the slytherins were well over six feet and very broad. One Ravenclaw looked like he could personally wrestle a Blast-ended Skrewt and win. It seemed Lily hadn't been lying, Kettleburn's sixth year class was destined to be filled with interestn' creatures.

"You're the new on eh?" Kettleburn asked poking a pencil in Harry's direction.

"Yes sir," Harry answered.

"Well pay close attention and don't meddle in something you don't know," Kettleburn lectured with a clipped speech.

James and Sirius laughed at the comment, Remus snickered without feeling.

"Now class, as I've been telling you for three years, this is where things get exciting. I'll be bringing in some dangerous creatures and expect the lot of you to be on your toes and perk them ears. I've got permission from Dumbledore to boot anyone who is wasting my time. This is NEWTs people, I won't coddle you anymore."

Excited murmurs were scattered through the crowd at Kettleburn's announcement. One of the Hufflepuff boys, his thick blonde hair hanging in front of his eyes, was smiling with a grin that seemed to stretch his face. The Ravenclaws had eyes that seemed alight with challenge. The Maruaders were playing the situation cooly, in truth their ventures into the Forbidden Forrest had introduced them to many dangerous beasts already.

"First off, today we'll be learning about a beast that is lethal and can very easily kill and eat you." Kettleburn jerked his thumb pointing behind him to a large crate. The crate had, of course, drawn people's interest earlier, however it had seemed quite harmless before Kettlerburn's introduction. As if hearing the man's comment, the crate suddenly began rocking menacingly.

Kettleburn didn't seem to mind the movement, he moved backwards, an excited grin on his face. With a tap of his wand the boards of the crate fell away, revealing a cage and a large creature inside.

A few of the students backed away, one of the Ravenclaws looked like he was about to faint.

"Acromantula!" Kettleburn declared. "Gather closer and take a look while I lecture. But not too close, those arms can reach about a foot outside the cage."

Harry was among the first to gather around the cage. He took his time to get a good look at this former foe. He'd faced the giant spiders on a couple occasions. His introduction in his second year had definitely left an impression, their presence in the Triwizard Tournament's maze had also been of note. Still he'd never seen the creature under the light of day. Looking at it this way, they weren't quite as menacing looking. A cluster of black eyes were surrounded by short brown, bristled hair. This specimen wasn't nearly as large as Aragog had been, it's eight legs extended only about five feet and were also covered with the same bristly brown hair.

"Now the Acromantula are carnivores, they hunt using a powerful venom that is secreted in the small glands behind their pincers. In the younger ones, such as this, the venom in mostly a paralyzing agent that weakens the prey but does not kill it. Acromantula prefer to eat live victims. However the older ones have been known to develop a secondary gland which contains a lethal poison which can kill."

The class continued to circle around the cage while Kettlerburn lectured. Harry found himself wondering if this was one of Aragog and Mosag's children and if Kettleburn had captured it in the forest. Maybe Hagrid had brought him, although Harry doubted that Hagrid had suggested the use of a cage. The giant tended to overlook security features like that. He also wondered if the Acromantula during the Triwizard Tournament had been drained of their venom. Harry distinctly remembered being bitten but the enormous insect. Considering what had happened next he was very relived that he hadn't been paralyzed, or dead.

"These creatures are found most commonly in warm climates, predominantly South America, although a large colony was discovered somewhere in Australia. By colony, let me explain that Acromantula usually live together in large numbers. Another reason why these are classified among the ministry's list of dangerous creatures. If you spot one there are bound to be hundreds nearby. Some people who have studied them claim that Acromantula have a strict family hierarchy, where the elder father figure rules over the rest of the colony. There are also conflicting views on their level of intelligence. Some claim that they can actually learn to communicate in spoken languages."

Harry found himself rolling his eyes. He'd met Aragog and knew for a fact that they could. Kettleburn was knowledgeable, but he seemed to have gotten most of that knowledge from books. Hagrid's lessons had been based on experience. Perhaps that was why Harry had a hard time paying attention to the professor's speech. Instead he found himself gazing steadily into the creatures eyes, wondering if it could understand what they were saying.

Harry inattentiveness hadn't been missed. Sirius Black had also been a little bored, and that was never a safe situation. Harry's earlier actions had the young man still boiling with anger, he hadn't enjoyed the boy's disloyalty nor his superior attitude. It brought to mind incidents this summer that hadn't yet been forgotten. And Sirius hadn't grown up enough to distinguish the difference between the two situations, and he was far too stubborn to recognize that he could have been the one in the wrong.

His blue eyes shifted toward his friends. Remus, ever the bookworm, was examining the spider and taking rapt notes with a quill and a small pad of paper. James was also circling the cage in an interested fashion, he had a faint gleam in his eyes that made Sirius think that the Quidditch star was imaging himself battle against a colony of acromantula.

It was time Harry Tempus learned some manners. Sirius had drifted behind the class and with a forceful nudge, he sent the boy falling forward.

The push had shocked Harry out of his memories and sent him careening closer to the cage. It was one of those situations that you could see in slow motion but were unable to prevent. Harry's arms spun out to brace his fall, but his hands never reached the ground. A leg, whose grip felt more like a python, had wrapped itself around Harry's chest and arms. Despite the difficulty of being in a cage, the creature was quickly pulling Harry toward it's pincers.

Acting swiftly, without waiting for the teacher, Harry called his wand into his hand. He twisted his wrist awkwardly until it pointed towards the more fleshy underbelly.

"Stupefy!" he said aloud. The red light burst out of his wand and with it the spider clutching him grew still. Harry struggled for a moment to extricate himself before rising to his feet.

The class was staring at him with wide eyes. Kettleburn's wand was extended, it hung in the air as he watched the student.

"Mr..." He obviously couldn't remember his name, "What did you, would you like to explain what you just did." Suddenly Kettleburn wasn't looking worried or panicked but rather a little bit excited.

"Um well, Acromantula have armored skins that repel most magics. _Arania Exama _will push them back but if you need something a little more permanent it is best to aim for the more fleshy area in the underbelly, even still on bigger spiders you'll probably need more than one person casting..." Harry trailed off suddenly realizing that the entire class was staring at him. He averted his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, ignoring the lot of them.

While speaking he'd glanced behind him to see Sirius still somewhat close. Now he turned his gaze on the boy and sent his best glare. What did his godfather think he was playing at? If Harry hadn't known how to handle the situation he could have been badly hurt.

Remus Lupin seemed to catch the silent staring match between Sirius and Harry and it wasn't long before he pieced the situation together. James was by his side and it seemed that the other Marauder had also grasped onto what had occurred.

"Very good Mr... well very good. Five points to Gryffindor for quick thinking."

The class progressed, Kettleburn lecturing more. Some of it nonsense in Harry's opinion. Harry took care to keep a distance from all the Marauders. He'd planned on checking his food and sleeping area for jinxes and tricks, but he'd have to be more wary apparently. Still he wasn't worried. Dodging Voldemort and Deatheater plans since you were eleven made such prank attempts seem harmless.

Harry's stunning spell allowed students the chance get an even closer look, which they took advantage of. Some students even went so far as to touch the spider. Although one of the Hufflepuffs, a girl with brown hair, almost regretted it when Harry's stunner wore off.

Needless to say most people considered it a very exciting class, made even more exciting by Harry Tempus.

-

"What do you think you were doing?" Remus said through clenched teeth.

Sirius Black rolled his shoulder and didn't meet his gaze.

"Answer Me!" Remus said. For the first time his voice became somewhat fierce. He grasped his friend's arm and pulled him around so that their eyes met.

"Relax Remus," James appeased. "I'm sure Sirius didn't mean it," he tried to shake Remus loose, however the werewolf held tight.

"He meant it, tell me I'm wrong." Remus released the boy, flinging his arm away from himself.

"He didn't me– "

"So what if I did," Sirius's statement quashed James's denial.

"Padfoot, it wasn't intentional..was it? You were just gonna give him a scare right." James Potter found himself unable to look at his best mate. Truth be told he'd already guessed exactly what had happened. But he wanted to give his friend the benefit of the doubt.

"He wasn't gonna get really hurt," explained Sirius negligently. "Kettleburn was there. I don't understand what the big deal was."

"You just don't get anything. You act anyway you want and you don't worry about other people. Did you stop to think what would have happened if Tempus had been badly hurt? You could be expelled, don't you get that?" Remus charged on ahead as he spoke, he moved his arms around in frustration.

"Merlin Moony, what's got your tail in a twist," Sirius complained.

Remus buried his face in his palms, pulling them away after a moment he just shook his head tiredly. "Let's just go back to the common room."

The werewolf went on ahead of the others, seemingly wanting to be by himself as he walked through the halls of Hogwarts, James hung back and walked beside Sirius.

"Moony was acting off, eh, must be that time of the month," Sirius grinned cheekily and nudged his shoulder with James.

"I don't know, he might have had a point. Come on Sirius, there is getting back at the prat and getting yourself expelled from school," the leader of the marauders spoke with a hesitation.

"James," Sirius whined. "You know he had it coming."

"He had something due, and I don't want to share a room with the blighter, but, look just back down a bit Sirius."

Black laughed and brushed his hair out of his eyes, sweeping the locks back. "I don't back down," he stated firmly.

James remained silent, not knowing if there was anything he could say about the situation. Sirius had been more reckless this year than the last. The last summer might have been the reason, he knew that summers at the Black house had gradually gotten worse and worse for his friend. Sirius always seemed to return to Hogwarts with even more desire to distance himself from his family.

"Tempus did know how to handle the situation though," Sirius said aloud. James turned to see a somewhat pensive expression on the other boy's face. Sirius lifted a hand and slide it through his hair. "He even knew a bunch about Acromantula. Like, he's actually met some before...what do you think that was about."

"Likely just trying to show off," James scoffed. If he were being truthful he'd admit to being somewhat impressed about the new Gryffindor's behavior. And, perhaps a little jealous. His inner 'showoff', as Lily liked to call it, didn't like being upstaged by someone else.

James and Sirius soon reached the common room, they crossed the room towards a grouping of armchairs. A few second years were already seated there but the boys rose to their feet and scurried away at the approach of the sixth years.

James flopped into his seat, letting his bag drop with a loud thud. He turned when the portrait door open, only to have his heart make a similarly loud thud. Lily Evans stood there, why did his chest always seem to ache whenever he saw her. She scanned the room and the ache seemed to lessen as she spotted them, her emerald eyes meeting his. She looked around again before moving in their direction, it felt like the snitch had settled in his stomach.

"Hello," she said sourly.

"Why Lily Flower," Sirius began. James frowned as his friend smirked and ran a hand through his hair. "And what might we do for you on this fine day, need some one to help you remove that stick you've got shoved up your a– "

"Sirius," James growled interrupting his friend. "What do you want," he asked turning to the red head.

Lily glared at Sirius, "Charming," she said aloud. She didn't bother to look at them, instead directing her vision above their heads. "You're in Care of Magical Creatures aren't you?" she asked.

"Yeah," James said cautiously. She couldn't have found out about the prank Sirius played on Tempus yet, could she?

"Harry Tempus," James fought the urge to panic, was the woman a seer? "I'm supposed to show him around, since Remus decided to become like the rest of you and not take his duty seriously. Have you seen him?"

"Remus?" James asked.

Lily gave him a look that could freeze lava, "Harry."

James rolled his eyes, "The professor kept him back."

"You're not interested in that prat are you?" Sirius asked aloud.

Lily colored, her cheeks matching her hair. "It wouldn't be any concern of yours if I were," she answered primly.

"I only ask because he looks just like James, sort of odd since you never seem interested in him," Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"It's not the way that Potter looks that I have a problem with," she answered drily.

James smiled, "It that your round about way of saying I'm too handsome for words, well, don't you worry Evans," he ran a hand through his hair making it stick up even more, "I'd be glad to go to Hogsmeade with you. But I don't kiss on a first date, I'm just not that kind of a boy."

"You're impossible," Lily growled.

"Alright, don't be pushy, I guess I could give you one kiss, if you buy the butterbeer."

Lily drew a deep breath before narrowing her eyes, the expression one James knew all too well. "James Potter I wouldn't date you if you were the last man alive," she hissed the sentence before turning on her heel and walking back out through the portrait hole.

Sirius grinned and shook his head as she left, "Merlin James, that was funny. What a stuck-up prude, still don't believe that you really like her."

James frowned as he looked at his friend, "You know not all of us want to date girls who would snog the first pair of lips they bump into."

"Why ever not," Sirius said wolfishly. "Speaking of which, I've got a 'date' with Matilda Wells tonight, let's just say she does very well indeed."

James shook his head. He subconsciously found himself watching the portrait hole. What exactly was Lily's interest in the strange new transfer student. She was taking this prefect business a little too far wasn't she.

And, Sirius's commentary aside, it was somewhat infuriating that Evans might consider Tempus datable. The prat looked just like him! It was one thing to think that maybe he wasn't her type, he and the other marauders had even questioned in Evans wasn't 'wink' playing beater for the other quidditch team 'wink'. After all, there had to be a reason that she wasn't responding to his obvious charm and good looks.

Particularly if she was responding to that prat Tempus. Suddenly Sirius's stunt in Care of Magical Creatures didn't seem so drastic.

-

Lily left the common room in a huff. She should have known better than to approach that Potter and Black. Normally she wouldn't have, but she was supposed to help Harry find his way around, and trust those two to leave him behind when he could easily get lost. And Remus was being terrible too. She'd always been able to rely on her fellow prefect to do his duty, as long as his friends weren't around.

Lily happily looked up to find the subject of her quest already climbing the stairs.

"Hello," she greeted. "Seems you managed to find your way back alright."

"Yeah," he answered. He seemed a little tired and hastily withdrew his hand from his chest, as if he had been rubbing it for some reason.

"Did class go well?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered. Harry's feet plodded forward without much thought. This had been one long day. Technically he still had dinner left this evening, but the only thing he was looking forward to was getting into his bed and sleeping. What could he say, time travel was tiring.

"You okay," his mother's pleasant voice asked.

"Yeah," he gave her a weak grin, "Just a little tired."

"Are you sure you're alright, you look a little peaky." Lily stopped herself from reaching out to touch his forehead. Where had that gesture come from?

Harry's eyes seemed a little sad as he looked at her, "I'm fine."

"Well, dinner should be soon. If you want we can just head down there and wait, the Marauders have taken over the common room and I don't feel like looking at them," Lily scrunched up her nose.

Harry looked upward, his bed was so near. But he couldn't say no to this opportunity, how many meals would he get to share with his mother before he'd be cast back to the future and she'd be gone. "Sure," he agreed.

The pair turned back around and headed for the great hall. It was near enough meal time that a few other students were also gathered. He spotted two Hufflepuffs who had been in his Care of Magical Creatures class, the darker haired boy gave him a thumbs up and smiled. "Right on Tempus, that was neat."

Harry nodded before catching up to Lily at the Gryffindor table.

Lily shared him a glance. "Friend of yours?"

"Magical Creatures," Harry explained.

"Oh Potter mentioned you stayed back to talk with Kettleburn, how did the class go?"

"Alright, although I've seen it taught better."

Lily frowned, "In what way?" she asked a little haughtily.

Harry laughed, "Don't get me wrong it was good and all, It's just Kettleburn teaches like he learned it all from books. And I know he got some of the information of arcumantula wrong. My previous teacher had more...practical experience. Just a different style."

"Oh," Lily said thoughtfully. "I never really thought of that, but one teacher can't personally experience everything about their subject."

"Yeah, I know." Harry leaned back on the bench, grabbing the edges of the table and looking toward the staff table as he did so.

"Acromantula then," everyone's been buzzing about what Kettlburn might have you tackle this year. Those are giant spiders, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He continued to lean backwards. His eyes were closed now and he was fighting the urge to yawn.

"Some people were saying he's gonna be talking about werewolves," Lily commented.

"That's stupid," Harry said. His eyes still closed.

Lily huffed, "And why is that, Mr. I-can-teach-CoMC-better-than-a-trained-Professor."

"Do you have a crush on Kettleburn?" Harry asked, he opened his eyes slightly to see Lily stare icily back at him.

"You just shouldn't badmouth a teacher."

"Well that time I wasn't talking bad about a professor, I was actually saying it was stupid to think that they'd teach werewolves in Magical Creatures class."

"Oh, why's that?"

Harry rubbed his forehead before looking at Lily steadily, "Its demeaning, makes it seem like they are animals or something. I mean, they are just as human as you and me except for one night of a month. It isn't like they can help that, studying them in a class would be the same things as propping us in a room full of muggles and having them poke and prod us."

Lily looked thoughtful, "I've never thought of it that way before. You certainly seem to know a lot about werewolves."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah...well a friend of mine is one, so..."

Lily's eyes opened wide. "Really, that's..."

She seemed to have trailed off unexpectedly, until Harry turned his head and spotted Remus standing only a foot away, he seemed frozen, his eyes somewhat wide and a definite nervous presence about him.

"Remus," Lily said cooly. The other marauding fools were not in tow, she noticed. In general she could tolerate him under such circumstances but he'd really been behaving terribly considering it was Mcgongall who had asked him to show Harry around.

"Uh..."

"Want to join us," Harry invited. Lily turned to the raven haired boy, well if he could be forgiving, why couldn't she?

Remus seemed to sit down stupidly, almost as he didn't even realize he was doing it. He didn't have his bag to fiddle with and so instead his sweaty palms rubbed against his robes. He was tiring his best to appear nonchalant.

"Harry was telling me about his werewolf friend," Lily explained, her voice a tad warmer.

"Oh really," Remus couldn't help that his voice seemed a little higher pitch than normal.

"Yeah," Lily said, she gave the prefect a funny look. "So what was he like, I mean I don't know any werewolves and all I've heard are what people say...and well I read a little in a Defense book..."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "It's like I said, he's just a normal guy to me. And you know I've read a few defense books to. Some of them are so inaccurate it would be funny if they weren't so damaging. One claimed that werewolves were volatile individuals, prone to fits of temper and shouldn't be allowed around children." Harry's eyes flashed as he repeated the line that had caused him to burn that particular book, not eliciting even a frown of protest from Hermione.

"That sounds horrible," Lily agreed. "You say werewolves aren't like that?"

"No, my friend in the nicest guy you'd ever meet. If anything he's too nice, real agreeable bloke."

"You know Harry that is quite interesting," Lily said with a tinge of bookish determination, "Maybe you should consider writing your own book someday, or.." The girl paused when she noticed Harry cringe."What's the matter?" she asked.

"Me write a book? You've lost your bleeding mind woman."

Lily looked affronted. "Well it was just an idea, and if you don't like what the other books have to say."

"Look Lily," Harry said with a steady voice. "I'm all for fixing things, but I don't think I'm the right guy. Firstly, I'm not a werewolf, so I can't honestly say I know what I'm talking about. And anyway, even if I did want to, who would listen to me. Eh? Remus back me up on this one."

"Eh well..." Remus found it difficult to get his throat to utter sounds that sounded remotely like human speech. "I don't really know anything about this sort of thing."

Lily frowned. "It just seems pretty pointless to sit there and argue about how things should be when you aren't going to make any effort to change things."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're a shocking resemblance to Joan of Arc?" Harry offered with an upraised eyebrow.

"If that's an attempt at mocking it was poorly done." Lily lifted her chin and refused to look at him as she spoke.

Harry paused. "No actually, I was just trying to warn you of what can happen to crusaders."

Lily glared at him. "Maybe you and Potter aren't so different after all," she said with some chill to her voice. "Excuse me, I see Alice." Lily soon got to her feet and found her way over beside her blonde friend. Sitting down in such a way that her back was to Harry.

"She can be kind of...passionate about things," commented Remus. His mouth still felt a little dry but the tone of his voice had steadied some.

"Yeah," Harry said a little sadness leaking into his words. He was proud of her too. Harry's own desire to do the right thing must have been influenced by his mother's integrity. But it was also a little disturbing to _know_ that the same spirit would lead to her death. Harry swallowed. This was harder than he thought it would be. Maybe it was because he was tired. His desire to know more about his parents was starting to go at odds with a sense of self preservation. Surely he'd go mad surrounded by these ghosts, sitting here like some despotic seer.

"Umm, so how was your first day?" Remus asked. He'd been watching the way Harry's green eyes seemed to unfocus as the young man sank into thought. What if the new transfer was putting the pieces together? He knew werewolves...what if he figured out. This, of course, was purely panic driven reasoning. There were no pieces, Remus had only met the boy a few hours ago. Still he felt compelled to pull Harry into conversation. "Eh, did you eh, like the teachers here?"

A poor attempt to be sure, but never the less it served to pull Harry from his thoughts. "Yeah. They seem nice. Although, like I was telling Lily, Kettleburn got some of his fact on Acromantula wrong."

"Really?" Remus asked in honest interest.

Harry nodded scratching his head. He glanced at his watch. The food should be arriving at any minute, then he could eat and go to bed.

"You seem to know a lot about magical creatures," commented Remus.

"Just some," Harry said with a shrug. "My old professor had a taste for dangerous creatures. Had an acromantula for a pet."

Remus coughed. "A pet!"

Harry shrugged, "Can't really blame him. He was part giant so I suppose it was sort of like having a tarantula, by his reckoning."

"Eh yeah...I guess that makes sense."

"He was a great professor though, and a friend before that. And while he always wanted us to meet the more dangerous creatures, if you listened to him you did learn a lot."

Harry nodded. Remus found himself watching the boy discreetly. He seemed tired, his posture a little more slumped than it had been this morning. Remus also couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable with the fact that Harry continued to be friendly despite all that had happened involving the marauders. Harry's hand negligently rubbed his chest as he continued to stare at the table.

With a wash of magic the food appeared. "Finally," Harry said.

"About today," Remus said speaking quickly. "I don't mean to...well I'm sure it was just an accident with," Remus found himself unsure of what to say.

"Look just forget it," Harry said, speaking more to his plate than Remus.

"They don't mean to be, well, the way they are," he pressed on.

"It really doesn't bother me," Harry said. He was shocked to find it was true. He might be a little disappointed in how his father was currently behaving. He might not even quite understand it. But knowing the fate that lay before them, how could Harry want to deny them this carefree existence.

Remus found himself puzzled.

Harry turned his tired eyes to young werewolf. "There are more important things in this world than whether someone likes me or not," he said. "Oh pass the trifle would you."

"Aren't you going to eat actual food?" Remus asked, watching as Harry piled his plate with the dessert.

"Not today," Harry said. He toyed with the food on his plate. "Ahhh sugar," Harry said with a smile. He knew that his current food choice would have Hermione cringing, but for some reason he'd been craving sweets this year. He'd even become somewhat fond of the lemon drops that Professor Dumbledore tried to force feed people.

Harry looked up again, Remus was looking fairly disgusted by the situation.

"I'll add some stew," Harry offered. He made a small space on his plate and scooped a little of the beefy stew.

Remus seemed only slightly appeased. "You have odd friends don't you Harry," Remus said as he helped himself to his own dinner.

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

"Just, a werewolf, a half-giant...not the type of people most people want to be friends with."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah well, I'm a half-blood, there are people out there who probably think I'm some abomination, in fact I know there are. When you look at it that way...well make you realize how useless those titles are eh?"

"Yeah, I guess." Remus ate a bite of his stew. "I don't think Lily is really mad at you," he added.

"You think so," Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Considering she's been looking over here every few minutes to check on you, I'd think not." Remus stifled a laugh.

Harry glanced over and met he mother's emerald green eyes, she quickly avoided looking at him. "Maybe you're right." Harry yawned. "Oi, you better scram," he said looking at Remus. "I spotted your friends heading this way."

Remus's head jerked guiltily, watching as James, Peter and Sirius approached. "Err yeah, see you round." Remus picked up his plate and carried it to where the marauders usually sat. He was quickly gathered back in their little fold, however James Potter kept shooting Harry glances from where he was sitting.

Alone again. The thought wasn't uncomfortable. Maybe he should ask Dumbledore to send him to the Bahamas for a week, anywhere tropical where he could rest and order fruity drinks with little umbrellas. He'd always wanted to drink something with an umbrella in it. He'd promise to go home once he returned to his time, cross his heart.

Harry ate another spoonful of trifle, he wondered how Hermione and Ron were doing. He sort of missed them. The three of them had long gotten past most of the awkward stages of friendship. They'd gone the easy route and simply fought a troll together, nothing bonds you together better than battling a mountain troll. Harry fantasized for a moment about taking a page out of Quirrell's book and letting one in to see if he and his parents could become better acquainted.

No, that was crazy. Probably.

Harry finished eating his dinner rather quickly. He still had his school bag, the one Mcgonagall had provided for his current use, as he'd "arrived late and was ill prepared". His head of House could be uppity when called upon. He slung his book bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. He'd only made it into the entrance way before a clatter of footsteps caught up with him.

"You could have come and eaten with us," the feminine voice said sourly.

Harry turned to Lily with a tilted chin, "I thought you were making a point."

"I wasn't," she stated, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She fell into step beside Harry. There was silence for a long while, most of the students were still in the hall. Harry found himself feeling rather comfortable with this version of his mother.

"Lily," he said her name softly. "I think it's great that you stand up for what you believe in. I do too, I guess my forte just isn't writing books."

"Oh," she peered at Harry through similar green eyes. "Yeah well, I guess you were sorted into Gryffindor..."

The Halls of Hogwarts were always somewhat eerie when they were quiet. The old stone corridors echoed even the smallest noise. Harry found himself falling into the comfortable pattern of walking back to common room, easily avoiding trick stairs and working his way through the maze of staircases.

"How do you know where you're going?" Lily asked. "I came with you because I was sure you'd get lost." She'd been watching him with some interest as he lazily walked in the correct direction.

Harry's step faltered for a moment, "Eh, I asked Remus."

"Oh, I can't understand why you're so nice to him. He and the rest of his friends are terrible. You were nice to him and as soon as those _marauders_– " Harry smiled, she said the name like is was curse, "walked in he just left you."

"Paying attention to me were you," Harry commented.

Lily coughed and straightened, "I am merely doing my duty as a school prefect."

"I'm much indebted," Harry politely agreed.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Well at least one prefect has to be responsible."

"Don't worry about Remus and me, he's in a tough spot," Harry explained.

Lily's nose crinkled, "I don't see what you mean."

Harry shrugged, "Maybe it's a guy thing," he said snottily.

Lily rolled her eyes, "It makes absolutely no sense, so yeah, it must be a guy thing."

Harry yawned, "Try being a guy figuring out girls, that is like trying to devine the future." Harry smiled wryly at the last comment.

The pair reached the common room and Lily provided the password (Mesopotamia). Harry looked around the room that had been his home. Not much would change in the years to come. In fact, they probably hadn't changed much in centuries. Wizards did like to keep a fashion going.

"Boy's dorms are at the top of the stairs. I imagine the house elves have already provided another bed...and your luggage I assume."

Harry yawned, "Thanks again Lily, you've been great."

"We have Transfiguration tomorrow," Lily reminded him. "Mcgonagall assigned that reading..." She trailed off as Harry nodded negligently.

He had no intention of doing any real homework while he was here, but there wasn't any point telling Lily that.

"Night," he called as he climbed the stairs.

Lily watched him in a puzzled way for a moment before going back to find Alice, provided her best friend hadn't already wandered off with Frank Longbottom. Lily was happy enough for Alice, but it did leave her feeling a little adrift when her best friend was otherwise occupied. She thought it almost sad to addmit she'd been a little pleased with Harry Tempus's introduction into her life. Showing him around did make things less lonely.

-

Previously in the Great Hall, the Marauders had been having an unusually quiet dinner. Maybe it was because Remus was still a little upset about the commotion in Magical creatures, perhaps it was because Sirius and James were still watching Remus suspiciously, and poor Peter was too confused about the strange tension that had befallen them that he had decided to remain silent and eat the pudding, which was particularly good tonight.

But, of course when Harry Tempus had left the table and Lily Evans had scurried after him, well such events couldn't go without comment. At least for some people they couldn't. And Sirius Black had yet to learn Ron Weasly's lesson of thinking first and speaking later.

"Eh, looks like your twin's stole your girl," Sirius said nudging James. "Who'd have thought that Evans would be crazy over a guy that looks just like James."

"Shut it," the quidditch star growled.

"Ah come on," Sirius whined, "You have to admit it's pretty funny, you've been trying since third year and he gets further in one day than you have in all this time."

James slammed his fists to the table and stood up abruptly.

Sirius's mouth hung open. By now James was used to a little good natured needling about Lily Evans. His fascination with the red head was perhaps James's most obvious flaw, at least as far as Sirius was concerned. Such a deficit deserved poking from time to time.

"I'm taking a walk," James declared. He strode away from the table leaving his friends speechless.

"I think you hit a sore spot," Remus remarked casually.

"What's with him, he never minded before," argued Sirius defensively.

Remus shrugged.

"Well, fine. If he wants to be all temperamental over it." Sirius bit into a big chunk of meat from the stew, pointedly ignoring the now empty seat beside him.

"What-re you dooing, chatt-ing him up be-fore," Sirius asked through bites of food.

"Nothing," Remus muttered.

"Yeah Remus, he took James and Sirius's wands and he even defended Slytherins." Peter entered the conversation, listing off Tempus's transgressions as if they were grave crimes.

"Yeah well...don't you think we're a little old to always be pranking the Slytherins..." Remus spoke softly, his voice not carrying above the other conversations nearby.

"What do you mean," Sirius asked, he refused to look at Remus as he spoke.

"Nothing. Just...well, maybe it brings more trouble than it's worth. And what did they ever do to deserve it."

"What did they do?" Sirius eyed Remus as if his friend had gone insane. "Is that the sort of stuff that Tempus guy says," Sirius's glare took on a darker touch, his eyes seemed to grow colder. It was an expression that always made Remus feel somewhat numb.

"Yeah, you're right," the werewolf said hollowly.

"Yeah, of course the Slytherins deserve it," Peter echoed.

Sirius nodded. "You bet they do, and so does that prat Tempus. He must know that James fancies Lily and is going after her to get back at James."

"I don't think," Remus started to argue, but he stopped when he realized that Sirius wasn't listening at all. The werewolf listened as the other two talked, Peter being the dutiful sycophant to Sirius's every speculation. Neither of them even seemed to notice that he had grown silent. Remus pushed the food around on his plate feeling more than a normal level of unease. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Not since his three friends had discovered his monthly secret had Remus ever felt so isolated.

Maybe it was just his over analytical side, but things seemed to be changing this year. James had already demonstrated a growing weakness in Lily Evans, something that their leader used to joke about didn't seem so amusing anymore. And Sirius, since the start of the year, had seemed more determined than ever to strike out against the Slytherins. Peter was, as always, just as willing to go around for whatever ride James and Sirius set in motion. That at least hadn't changed. And then there was Remus himself, doubting his friends, striking up an odd sort of friendship with someone they despised.

Things were starting to change, and that was a frightening thought.

-

Harry opened his shrunken trunk and examined what exactly he had brought with him. He'd done this at least once a week since the Time Sand incident, but he couldn't recall what the latest additions had been. At first glance he spotted the hunting knife he'd prepared for the wilds of pre-hogwarts Scotland. Not be needing that. He tossed it on the bed. There were some thick fur lined robes, those were pointless and joined the knife. The short sleeve shirts and trousers would come in handy. As would the galleons. Harry dug a little deeper moving around the socks and other essentials he'd packed.

Drat, not a single pair of pajamas. Of all the things to forget.

Harry's nervous gaze landed upon the second trunk before him. Dumbledore hadn't known about the trunk hidden in Harry's pocket, somehow during their discussion of time and fate and paradox the subject hadn't come up. Hence, Harry could only assume that the man had provided this second trunk in an effort to make Harry more comfortable. Either that or Albus Dumbledore was a more devious prankster than Harry had previously thought

The trunk in question, was lime green in color, a few luminous yellow flowers covered the surface. Harry had, as of yet, avoided discovering what lay inside the monstrosity. But if he didn't want to sleep fully clothed during his time in the past. Well...

Being a Gryffindor, Harry opened the trunk.

Inside were a collection of clothing and trinkets that Dumbledore must have assumed were necessities. There were a few robes of curious origin, a book on "The Fascinating Inner-Lives of Dormice", a small bag of the headmaster's favorite muggle sweet (that Harry could appreciate), A vibrant purple toothbrush, some boxer shorts with mermaids who swam about the cloth, as well as, at the very bottom, a pair of pajamas. The night shirt was a good deal longer than Harry was used to, and it's bright orange shade could only be loved by a Chudley fan Harry knew, but the pants weren't half bad. They were the only muted tone represented in the vibrant collection of things that Dumbledore had provided. Harry removed the dark green pajama pants, promptly locking the other things away and hiding the trunk under his bed.

The dorm room was as unchanged as the common room, and the familiar four-poster bed looked just as comfortable and inviting. Harry changed quickly, looking forward to sleep. His hands ran along his ribs, absently brushing the bruises that were forming from his encounter with acromantula. The spider had a surprisingly firm grim.

The door to the dorm room swung open with surprising force, a dark haired young man entering with steps that seemed to hit the ground harder than was necessary. He stomped to his own bed and flinging the curtains about angrily before he even noticed Harry's presence.

"What are you doing here?" James Potter accused roughly.

"Uh, going to sleep," Harry offered.

James seemed to stare at him a moment and Harry was wondering if his father had forgotten that he was going to be joining their dorm.

"That from the acromantula?" James asked frowning.

Harry looked down at his chest, "Yeah," he admitted with a shrug. "What are you doing here?" he decided to ask.

"What it's my dorm room can't I be here?" James argued defensively.

"Yeah sure, just figured you would still be eating." Harry sat on his bed, still watching his father thoughtfully. This wasn't what he'd anticipated their next meeting to be like.

James seemed to mimic Harry's gesture, sitting on his own four poster. Coincidentally the extra bed that was now Harry's had been placed beside James. The marauder found himself looking at the other boy in a penetrating way.

"We do look a lot alike," James stated, there was a tinge of exasperation in his tone.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Than why..." James shook his head and ran a frustrated hand through his already messy hair. "Whatever," he tried to say casually.

Harry, tired as he was, couldn't seem to turn away from his father. When the boy was alone Harry thought he saw a little bit more of the man James Potter would grow to become. And he saw a little more of someone Harry had always wanted to meet.

"I'm sorry if things got out of hand this morning," Harry said. Suddenly he had no desire to keep up a feud with his father. It just seemed to have no point. What was the use of trying to teach James that he was in the wrong, the man would come to that conclusion himself in time.

James looked up, "Oh yeah. I guess it did, and yeah, no hard feelings," James awkwardly avoided apologizing. "You must be pretty good a defense, that shield was pretty good" the boy offered.

Harry grinned, "It's my favorite class."

"Yeah?" James asked. "I like it okay, you planning on being an Auror or something?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, I'd like to but I don't know if I'm really Ministry material."

"My Dad's an auror, at least he was, he's retired now. He always says the Ministry's policies sometimes do more harm than good, so I get your point."

"Tell me about it," Harry said with more feeling than he probably should

James looked at the other boy curiously, "Yeah, so eh..." James floundered wondering what else they should talk about. He didn't really like Tempus, but the guy didn't seem all bad. The bruising on his chest stood out vividly, and he hadn't ratted Sirius out. "What do your parents do," he cringed at the lameness of the question, but he wanted to keep this going for a bit.

Tempus seemed to pale a bit at th question before shrugging, "Er, they're dead."

James wanted to bash his head into something, "I'm, I didn't..."

"It's okay," Harry interrupted, "They died a long time ago. I was just a baby."

"Oh..." He really wanted to ask how...but it seemed too rude.

Harry watched the questioning face and felt a little sickened, "They were killed by a dark wizard," he explained without being asked. "Night James."Harry pulled the curtains around his bed so that he wouldn't have to see his father's face.

There was silence for a moment.

"Harry?" James's voice intruded for a moment. "Eh can I ask you something?"

Harry stared at the curtain. "Sure," he said hoarsely.

"About Evans...Er, you and she...I mean well, I know you just met her but it seems like..."

Harry bit off a cynical laugh. "Don't worry James, trust me I'm not interested in Lily. She's just being nice to me to be a good prefect."

Harry couldn't see James but he had the vague feeling that the boy had sighed in relief.

"Thanks Harry," the relived voice on the other side of the curtains said. Harry listened as the footsteps crossed the room and the door opened and closed. The room was quiet again.

Harry rolled onto his side and tried to fall asleep. For some reason he was feeling a little restless. If he were being honest with himself, something he had no intention of doing, he might admit that cryptically telling his father the truth about the future hurt more than not saying anything. Just as warning Lily not to be a hero had left him feeling unsettled. He might also admit that he'd never felt more alone. But he wasn't in the mood for personal contemplations. So instead he tried listing the seekers of all the national Quidditch teams, then the chasers. He fell asleep sometime after Allison Meeker of Poland's Pixies.

-

A/N: A Thank you to those who have reviewed. I hope to hear from more of you to let me know how you think the story is progressing. Feedback is always a good thing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Time to Mind you Own Business

Day: Evening of Day One (Time Sand still sticking.)

-

When considering the nights of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there are usually several different opinions.

Parents likely think that their children are nestled snugly in their dorm rooms, resting up for another day of magical education. Parents are, of course, the most deluded about their children's lives. No matter how close a relationship a parent and child may have, children will, out of kindness, shield their parents from the truth. It is a time-honored practice, one of great history and tradition. Even in cases on time travel, when said parents are the same age as said child...well lying is always the best policy.

The students themselves might consider the evenings as prime time to enjoy themselves without teacher interference. Various muggle and wizard games are played late into the night, and among the upper forms students are busy trying to arrange romantic rendezvous. Love it seems, can endure even on week nights when a half meter essay is due the next day. And despite some people's (Mcgonagall) arguments that closed classrooms should be securely locked and the Astronomy tower patrolled, other people (Dumbledore) seem content to 'trust' the students and allow them to make their own choices.

Teachers, depending on their attitudes, generally spend their evenings ignoring the exploits of the students, or frantically trying to stop said exploits. The caretaker, a squib by the name of Argus Filch, was constantly at war with the little miscreants that roamed his halls after curfew. He had taken the job ten years ago and during that period had stumbled upon more future married couples than he would like...even if they would later be married to people other than those he'd found them with. And it did provide some interesting blackmail-er- was he the sort to pursue such things. Or if he owned a camera.

That particular night the man had managed to snag Sirius Black and a girl named Matilda Wells. It had, in fact, been a complete accident, the caretaker had been looking for a broom when he'd stumbled upon the pair. Despite the lack of intention, Filch would go to sleep that night with a toothy smile. Glad to have, at the very least, upset Mr. Black's plans. (That little bastard made more messes in his halls in a month than most students made in their lives.)

For the students caught, the usual punishment involved a firm lecture by their Head of House and removal of house points. Thus the heads of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff gathered in Professor Mcgonagall's office. The Gryffindor head was a strict and stern as ever, she paced about her office using phrases like 'disregard for rule', 'matters of propriety' and 'foolish, juvenile behavior'.

Professor Pod didn't seem to understand what had been going on and seemed willing to believe that the pair had gotten locked in there while looking for some cleaning products to tidy their common rooms. He mentioned twice the fact that he needed to return to trimming his Moustache bush and couldn't understand what the fuss was about.

Professor Mcgonagall was not so easily fooled. She continued pacing and lecturing, Professor Pod nodded at the right moments and hummed at the wrong ones, Sirius managed to listen to her lecture with practiced ease, and Miss Wells turned as red as a tomato.

"And to bed this instant!" the transfiguration professor finished, shooing them out of her office.

Sirius smirked, "That's just where I'm headed professor," he said with a wink.

"Night professor," an embarrassed Miss Wells said, quickly heading to her own common room. Professor Pod followed after her, seeming untroubled.

Sirius grinned once more at his Head of House before she slammed her door on his face. Sirius casually strolled through the halls, not in much rush despite the hour. When he finally did arrive in the common room it was half empty. Some students had already retired to bed. But his friends could always be counted upon.

"How many points did you loose this time," Remus casually inquired. The werewolf was reading his transfiguration text and didn't bother looking up as Sirius sat down.

"How'd you know?" Sirius couldn't help but ask.

"You never return this early unless you were caught," Remus provided.

The prankster shrugged, "Only ten points. Completely worth it."

James was staring into space and hadn't made any comment on his best mate's entrance.

"James? Hey buddy, you're gonna burn a hole in the carpet." Sirius waved a palm before the young man's face, bringing him back to the present.

"Uh, hey Sirius, you make any more progress?" He didn't sound very interested but Sirius decided to let the lack of enthusiasm slide.

"Not much, got caught by Filch." Sirius watched as his friend quickly went back to staring. "What's the matter with you, you still mad at Tempus?"

"Huh?" James asked. "Naw, I think we might have misjudged him. He isn't a bad bloke. Not a ball of laughs but, hey he didn't tell the teachers on you about the acromantulas...maybe he isn't too bad."

Sirius's eyes opened wide, "What is up with you!" He reached across and shook his friend's shoulder.

"What? I'm not saying we'll be friends or anything...just he's not that bad. What do you think Remus?" James turned to the prefect and ignored Sirius's gaping expression.

"He seems nice enough," Remus was happy to say. In truth he rather liked the new transfer student, it was rare for anyone to be so open-minded about his condition. Not that he would go out of his way to upset his friends with the matter.

"Yeah, that is what I thought." James's face became thoughtful again, "Anyway, he said he isn't interested in Lily, so..."

Sirius smacked his head, "I should have known that you'd give up once you knew your Lily Flower's virtue was protected."

"Hey," James complained, "That's not all. I said he didn't turn you into the professors, isn't that enough to give him another chance." He considered telling them about Tempus's parents, but that didn't seem like the thing to share, and if it were him he wouldn't want people being nice to him out of pity.

"James! He defended the Slytherins and he took your wand, don't you remember that!" Sirius fumed, his clenching at his sides.

"Yeah...well, you did prank them first and it's not like he didn't give our wands back," James rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, "And he said he was sorry about it."

Sirius leaned back in the chair, allowing his head to lie weakly against the cushion. "Tell me I'm not hearing this," he waved his hands at the other around him, "In the space of a few hours you've all decided to turn into a bunch of pansies. He's a prat, he invaded our dorm and he's gonna ruin everything. What's gonna happen when the next full moon comes, won't he think it's odd that we all leave the dorm?"

"Maybe he won't notice," Peter suggested softly, "He went to sleep real early tonight."

"I don't think he'll care," Remus voiced from behind his book.

"What do you mean by that, if he finds out..." Sirius let the conversation hang ominously. Everyone knew of Remus's paranoia regarding anyone finding out his secret. He'd nearly had a heart attack when the other three had confronted him about it.

"Well...he, well he said he already has a friend that...you know has the same thing as me." Remus was always careful never to say the w-word in the presence of others. It was this sort of precaution that had allowed him to remain undiscovered for six years.

"Really?" James inquired curiously. He leaned towards the werewolf, "What did he say about it?"

"Not much, he and Lily were talking about it, just said his friend was just like any other guy."

Everyone could tell that Remus was pleased with that comment, perhaps even more so because it was an inadvertent compliment. They all tried to tell Remus that it was fine, but their friendship and loyalty to him made him question it. Having another person offer his opinion meant more than Harry Tempus could know.

"Come on," Sirius argued in a pleading way, "Don't you find that odd. Tempus just happens to get into a conversation about, you know, right when you're there. He was probably trying to get you to like him."

"How could that be," James protested, "Tempus doesn't even know about Remus's little problem."

Remus remained silent about the dispute. He believed that Tempus spoke the truth, and that was all that mattered really.

"What's up with you Padfoot, why are you so determined to hate him?" James ran a hand through his hair and gave his friend a questioning look.

"He's a stuck up prat," Sirius pressed on, "He's a little snake and I know it."

James shook his head. "What happened this summer mate?" The undeclared leader of the Marauders suddenly looked serious and his voice was softer.

"Huh, what does that have...nothing. Just summer." Sirius rose to his feet. "I'm going to bed," he announced, heading for the staircase before anyone could call him back.

James turned to Remus. "I think it must have been pretty bad," he said softly. "He came over for two weeks near the end...he said he was bored. Now I wonder." James rubbed his temples tiredly. "I should have noticed," he said aloud without looking at anyone.

"Noticed what?" Peter asked leaning forward.

"He was trying too hard to be himself."

Neither Peter nor Remus commented on that. Instead the other three continued their homework, Peter asking questions whenever he got stuck. When James grew bored he found himself switching between watching Lily, who was sitting alone and doing her own homework, and glancing at the stairs, worrying about what was happening with Sirius and why the stubborn pureblood refused to tell them.

-

Sirius was feeling rebellious and didn't brush his teeth before falling into bed. He glared at the one bed with closed curtains. An unreasonable voice kept saying that Harry Tempus was to blame for unsettling everything. Just the change of an additional bed in the dorm seemed to piss him off.

He lay in his bed allowing his anger to melt away, leaving him feeling somewhat cold.

-

Day Two. (And we begin to wonder what mistakes we made in past lives.)

-

Harry awoke the next morning not feeling as refreshed as he should. His dreams had been troubled. Too hazy for them to be real visions, but Harry had the vaguest feeling that he had been a subconscious visitor to the Dark Lord's mind. Not a place he wanted to be. And he was still as rubbish at Occlumency as ever.

He yawned and rubbed the back of his head. Looking around the dorm room he at first felt a little startled to see the unfamiliar aspects. Dean's muggle posters were nowhere in sight, instead he saw a row of moving wizarding pictures. Ron's bed was occupied by a blonde head that still snored slightly. Harry had to shake the cotton out of his skull to remember where he was.

"We don't have many classes today," a quiet voice intruded.

Harry turned around to find his favorite Defense professor already dressed and appropriately enough reading a Defense text. "You're up early," Harry mentioned.

"You too, usually I have to pry the others up with a crowbar."

Harry nodded and yawned. He crossed the room to take a better look at the book Remus was reading. "_Defense for the Diligent_, sounds interesting." He spoke without irony.

"Yeah," Remus's eyes looked away from the bruises on Harry's chest. "James said you like Defense."

"Yeah, my favorite, you?" Harry moved back to his bed and dug into his chest finding a clean uniform.

"It's alright," Remus admitted.

"What's the professor like?" Harry asked. He'd had his share of terrible defense professors. Not to mention a killer or two.

"Haven't met him yet," Remus stated. "First class is today. From what I've heard through he was an auror. The other classes seem impressed, but considering we had an utter incompetent last year...well it wasn't too difficult to be better."

Harry nodded in understanding.

A half hour later Harry was showered and dressed for the day. Remus had also managed to wake James and Sirius and only Peter still avoided being awoken. Harry knew what he'd like to do to get the rat out of bed...but he'd just patched things up with his father and didn't think bodily harming James's friend would improve matters.

Harry gave Remus a commiserating look as the poor prefect tried once again to shake Peter awake. He decided to grab his bag and head to breakfast, perhaps he could have a few moments to 'center' himself, 'clear his thoughts' and 'take stock of his magical indicators.' All these had been suggestion from Madame Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore. Harry, quite frankly, thought them all to be a load of dung. But he could use some time with his parents out of his sight. Spotting them every time he turned around was making him feel a little jumpy.

"Harry," a voice intruded in his thoughts.

He very nearly sighed in annoyance, "Lily, didn't see you there," he greeted with little enthusiasm.

"I was getting worried that you hadn't woken up yet," the prefect said as she guided Harry toward the common room exit.

"Oh yeah, no trouble there," Harry reluctantly followed the red haired witch.

"It would be just like Remus to not make sure you woke up in time."

"As if anyone could sleep through his attempts to wake Peter," Harry muttered.

Once again Lily lead him to the Great Hall, telling him about Hogwarts history as they walked. Harry was starting to think that Lily took her job as prefect too seriously. Surely Mcgonagall hadn't expected her to shadow him everywhere and provide a guided tour of the school.

The two settled themselves at the Gryffindor table, Lily continuing to lecture on about the ceiling and the other aspects of the room. Harry found he became less annoyed as he watched her rather than listened.

"We have Transfiguration today, did you do the reading last night?" Lily helped herself to toast as she questioned him.

Harry shrugged, "Er, yeah," he lied. Although perhaps it wasn't a lie. In his time Mcgonagall had chosen a newer text , but he highly doubted that she had varied things too greatly. And...he didn't really care if she had.

Lily considered him suspiciously, but didn't comment.

"So where is Alice today?" He asked conversationally.

"She and Frank are taking a walk...or something like that." The red head seemed a little sad as she said it. Harry began to see why Lily might be sticking with him so diligently.

Harry looked at the table but couldn't find anything that appealed to him. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that made eating anything sound nauseating. He could read the signs well enough but for the moment decided to ignore it. He stared at the empty plate trying to focus on the shine of the gold and pushed his magic back in line.

Someone sitting down across from him broke his gaze.

"Morning," James Potter said. He eagerly helped himself to eggs and sausage.

"What are you doing?" Lily demanded, staring at James as if the young man had grown a second head.

James swallowed. "Eating breakfast." He flashed the prefect a cocky grin that set her spluttering.

"I mean what are you doing sitting by me!" She demanded.

Sirius sat down beside his friend, mostly out of habit. He didn't pay much mind to Tempus, still feeling a little tired to begin another argument. "She's got a point James. I think Mcgonagall banned close proximity after that food fight in fourth year."

"I didn't start that if you recall," James pointed out. He somehow managed to avoid Lily's harsh glare. "Anyway, I'm not sitting with Evans, I just want to catch up with our new room mate. If she's sitting next to him...well it's not my problem."

Lily seemed to decide to ignore him, eating her breakfast and moving a little further down the bench and away from him.

"So, how'd you sleep," James asked loudly.

Harry wasn't certain exactly who the question was directed to, him or Lily, but judging by Lily's tightlipped stare he drove forward. "Fine, you?"

"Alright, had to stay up to read that awful Transfiguration homework. Utter rubbish."

"What do you mean rubbish Potter," Lily demanded breaking her vow of silence.

"It just rehashed everything she said in class, pointless waste of time," proclaimed James with a finality in his voice.

"Don't you think the warnings were well advised. Some of these Human transfigurations can result in lifelong mutations." Lily leaned forward and tapped the table in a firm way when she was finished speaking.

"Only if you're an idiot," James said under his breath.

Lily's eyes burned in annoyance, "Just because– "

Harry quickly broke in, "Transfiguration must be your best subject huh?"

James cast a glance in Harry's direction. "Yeah, well I guess. I'm good at quite a few."

"And modest too," Sirius added before cramming more food into his mouth.

"You're insufferable," Lily pronounced.

James shrugged. "You've used that one before," James pointed out tiredly.

"I'll see you in class," Lily said to Harry before grabbing her book bag and leaving the table.

Harry turned to his father with a curious look, "So, were you trying to drive her away?" he asked.

"That's just how it goes," Sirius said stiffly. He avoided looking at Harry and turned to his breakfast and James, attempting to shut the new comer out of the conversation. "So another stirring performance Prongs," he said with a cheeky grin.

James grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it angrily. "I just can't get around her," He fumed, speaking more to himself than anyone around.

"James, James, what can I say. She's a prude with no sense of humor, you're better off dropping her and moving onto someone else." The canine animagus grinned and patted his friend's back in a cheerful manner.

James shrugged him away, "No she's...there's something about her."

Harry didn't know what advice to offer. Girls were something he'd never quite understood. Maybe if Hermione was here she could explain the problem between James and Lily. Not that he would probably understand the explanation. There was little comfort in knowing that Ron would be even more clueless.

If Harry were to consider it, under pain of death mind you, he might conclude that James still had the maturity level of a twelve-year-old, and as such his humor didn't appeal to the serious young witch, in the same way it could be said that Lily's determination to see the worst in James often lead her to miss out on the man's more worthy attributes. Both caught up in there own problems and ideas, both stubborn and opinionated. In other words, they were sixteen.

Harry, while also sixteen, had some difficulty getting too involved in this angst filled drama they were concocting. After facing the sort of challenges that had come his way, these small problems were hard to relate to. And, he did know the future.

Remus and Peter also ambled over. The blonde settled into his seat, helping himself to cereal only to stop dead when he spotted Harry Tempus sitting by them. He nudged Sirius "Why are we sitting by him?" he asked quietly.

"James was just using the new kid to sit next to Lily," Sirius replied not quite as quietly.

Remus's eyes closed for a brief moment, but when he opened them he found Tempus didn't seem troubled at all. Although he wasn't eating.

James seemed to notice this too. "Don't you eat?" he asked.

Remus remembered the boy's sugar filled meal the evening before.

"Not hungry," Harry stated with a grimace. He did snag some orange juice though. "What's the day today," he asked.

"Uh, the third," Remus provided.

"No...the day, what day is it, Monday, Tuesday?" There was an oddly hopeful tone when he said the word Tuesday. Harry tried to think back but with the whole time travel thing it was hard to figure out. And he hadn't bothered yesterday.

"Thursday," Remus answered looking at the others with a little confusion.

"Crap," Harry said aloud. "Absolute rubbish," he took a gulp of juice banging the glass forcefully down onto the table. "Well I'm off to class." Sending the four marauders a wry grin before turning and leaving for the transfiguration class room.

"That's one weird bloke," Sirius commented. He ate his eggs with a frown.

"Maybe a little," James allowed. "But see, he isn't bad."

Sirius's expression grew a little darker, "Yeah sure, whatever you say."

James gave his best mate a glance before shaking his head and continuing his breakfast. Remus also looked closer at Sirius but as with James he choose to say nothing. Peter, who had been sitting next to Sirius, still wasn't sure why they now talking to Harry Tempus, but merely decided to not make an issue out of it. Whatever James and Sirius did were fine by him. Hmmm, blueberry muffins.

"Class," Remus said suddenly. As if to highlight his statement a bell chimed.

"Great, we're gonna be late!" The three quickly got to their feet, Sirius grabbing Peter by the shoulders.

"My muffin," the boy complained.

"Come on," Sirius said.

"I'm not taking Transfiguration," the chubby boy added.

Sirius dropped his arms. "Oh...see you Pete."

The blonde found himself alone at the table. He felt very exposed being the only Marauder in sight. A pair of Slytherins glared at him in a menacing manner. Peter chose to take his muffin and go. He had an hour before Divination, but he'd rather wait in the common room.

-

When Transfiguration was over, Harry left the class with the feeling of dread. And it wasn't homework that was deadening his mood. The class had gone well. They'd been transfiguring their fingers into claws. Harry's ability had impressed the professor to even offer him a slight smile. James Potter and Sirius Black had also managed it by the end of the class. And both Remus and Lily as well as a few of their other classmates became very close, so it didn't seem too unusual. But for Harry the success left him ill at ease.

Because he hadn't intended to do well. While he had learned the spell a few weeks ago in his own time, indeed from the very same professor, he had purposely not focused on the magic as much as he should. He had no intention of making a show of himself. The incident in Care of Magical Creatures and his argument with the marauders were more than enough to spark interest and he had hoped to glide through the rest of his time in the past with little comment. So he'd decided to match his classmates and not produce a stir.

Thus it was with some surprise that his lackluster effort produced a perfect example of human transfiguration. On the first try.

Harry had tried to shrug the display off, had desperately tried to quiet Lily's gush of excitement. Unfortunately by the time he'd managed it Professor Mcgonagall had already approached and Harry's talent had earned him ten points. But it gave Harry no satisfaction, his stomach was twisting into knots and an uncomfortable warmth was growing in his chest.

He headed to Defense with the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. And, it was a Thursday. Ill omens indeed. That phrase had come from divination, proving that the class wasn't entirely pointless.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Lily said. "You didn't seem to take class seriously the other day," she smiled in a fond way as she walked with him to Defense class.

"Eh, it's not a big deal," Harry muttered.

"Well, I think it's impressive." Lily continued walking beside him, occasionally glancing at him in a curious way. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered looking ahead. He was getting tired of people asking him that.

Lily grew quiet.

Which seemed to be all James needed. "Do you really think it's impressive." He asked, leaning towards her flashing his hand of perfect claws.

Lily turned with raised eyebrows. "It's a good piece of magic," she said with a firm voice.

James stopped dead, then quickly moved to catch up, "Really, I didn't think you cared for transfiguration," he stated seriously.

"It's not that I don't like it, I just like Charms more."

"Oh, well if you want me to tutor you," James raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I'll help you anytime."

"I don't need you," Lily snarled picking up her pace.

"Two minutes without her yelling at you, impressive," Sirius said to James. "You guys are almost ready to get married."

James ruffled his hair. "Come on let's get to class."

Remus had trailed behind and found himself walking next to Harry. Tempus was walking in a somewhat dazed manner a thoughtful frown on his face.

"You alright," Remus asked.

"I just told you, I'm...Oh Remus." Harry looked up and spotted Lily's quick figure a few feet ahead of him. He scratched the topic of his head, a mannerism that made him look more like James. "Yeah I'm fine."

"Class went well," the werewolf said.

"Yeah."

Soon everyone had arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry found himself sitting down and examining how the class was arranged. Long practice with many Defense professors had taught him that one could usually determine a teacher's potential based on how the room was arranged. Lupin's room had been filled with interesting creatures but was otherwise neat and practical. Lockheart's room was exhibition of ego gratification. Moody's collection of paranoid dark detectors had also been a clue.

This room was clean but empty of all personal touches. An oak desk with only a silver inkwell on the surface. The student desks were all pushed back leaving a large open space at the front of the classroom. Harry wondered what the professor intended for that.

The class seemed empty, Gryffindors and Slytherins were present, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs were in short supply. Indeed less than twenty students had passed onto NEWT level defense. He hoped that there was another class, perhaps there were two sixth year groups broken up based of scheduling but Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was more of influence that Voldemort's war was leaving. Harry was beginning to see what Arthur Weasley had spoke of. The wizarding world was dividing. Light Side, Dark Side, and those who wanted to pretend that nothing was happening. Although Harry knew that House wasn't really a good indication of which side the people in them might choose.

"Good afternoon class," A deep voice said, its owner entering and closing the door with a snap.

The new Defense Professor was a stocky man, short but strong, he had wavy black hair that was cut at his chin. His face was clean shaven but his eyebrows were thick and his dark eyes were sunken into his face. His sweeping blue robes did inspire the look of an auror, as did his march like way of entering.

"I'm Professor Barten," the man swept to his desk and seated himself abruptly. Harry noticed that the man's firm presence was more than enough to silence the class.

"I'm familiar with the previous professors you've had and their failure to handle certain subjects. As such, this year we will be focusing on the damage wizards can do to each other and how to protect against it. That is particularly important in these times."

Professor Barten stood from his desk and swept through the classroom, seeming to be assessing the students before him. The man paused before Harry for a moment, their eyes meeting before the man moved on.

"You are NEWT level students and I don't believe in treating young adults like children, so today we are diving into some of the most dangerous magic, and I will guide you in how to best protect yourself."

Harry found himself tensing.

"There are three curses that the Ministry has deemed unforgivable, the use of any of these earns the caster a life term in Azkaban. Can anyone tell me these curses."

Remus's hand rose in the air. "Imperius," he said in his textbook voice.

"Explain," Professor Barten said. He surveyed Remus with chilly eyes.

"Um," he stuttered a bit in the beginning, "The Imperius Curse is said to take over the will of the individuals, making them do whatever is asked of them. Complete control." The werewolf seemed to shiver a bit at the idea but quickly hid any anxiety.

"Correct," the auror responded. This was the place where a professor would usually assign points. Professor Barten did not, instead he made a small note on a piece of parchment.

"Next curse," he called out.

A Ravenclaw with curly hair raised his hand, the palm straight as an arrow. "The Cruciatus curse," he said without being called on. "It is a torture curse that inflicts pain upon the victim."

"Yes...Mr.." Barten raised an eyebrow.

"Denton," the Ravenclaw replied.

Professor Barten made another note on his parchment. "And the final curse," he asked scanning the class.

Everyone seemed determined not to meet his eye.

"Come now, the final one, the ticker. How about..." he scanned the class list, landing on his target. "Mr Tempus, the final unforgivable curse please."

Harry met the man's stony eyes with no expression. "Avada Kedavra, the Killing curse."

"Explain," Barten asked silkily.

Harry's lips tightened a small degree but otherwise he showed no outward sign of dissent. "It's a curse that kills." he replied simply.

"Any other information you'd like to supply your class?"

"Yeah, if you see a big green light coming your way, duck. It can't be blocked." Harry fought the urge to glare at the man and strove to keep his face impassive.

"Correct Mr. Tempus," Barten said softly. "Very good advice." The man made a little longer note on his parchment. Finally looking up to meet the stares of his silent class.

"Today we will be exploring only one of these curses, the other two in your next two classes. In between I'd like you to read as much as you can on them. They are featured heavily in chapter six of your text but considering the Hogwart's library is without compare, I'd also like you to find a second source of information. One foot essay covering them and the Ministry's history with these curses."

People had hastily made a note of the assignment.

"Now, today we'll be focusing on the Imperius Curse, as Mr. Lupin explained, it exerts total control over the person it has been cast upon. However, unlike the other two, this curse can be broken if the individual has a strong enough will. To that end I have been given permission by the ministry and the headmaster to cast it upon you– " Here the class bust into noise but Barten ignored them all and ploughed forward. "– that you can understand the feeling involved. Hopefully should you ever encounter it in real life you will have the means to stop it before you are forced to do something you may regret. Some of the worst crimes and betrayals have occurred because individuals were under this curse."

The class continued to mutter to itself but no one made a move to rise from their chairs.

"I'll be calling you up in alphabetical order. Starting with, Black, Sirius."

The young pureblood rose to his feet a little stiffly, but his cocky walk to the front of the classroom was in character. He grinned at the professor, silently encouraging the former auror to 'give it his best shot'.

In less than a minute Sirius was happily singing _Mary Had a Little Lamb _and skipping like a schoolgirl. Although admittedly his movements seemed a little jerky.

"Not too shabby Mr. Black, " Barten mentioned making a note on his paper again. "You managed to fight for fifty seconds, which is more than most."

Sirius didn't seem too pleased with the compliment, his face had gone pale and he sat back in his chair, avoiding everyone and staring at his hands.

The class continued on. Lily, with her stubborn streak, also put up a good fight but eventually pretended to skip rope without complaint. Remus seemed terribly nervous at the idea of having his will cast aside, on a night other than the full moon, but didn't seem to put up any struggle when Barten ordered him to tap dance a rather extravagant dance number. None of the other students seemed to put up much of a fight either, Alice had docilely clucked like a chicken and another Gryffindor girl, whom Harry remembered from Care of Magical Creatures, danced the hula. One Slytherin, that had some resemblance to Millicent Bulstrode, eagerly imitated a sheep.

Harry, admittedly, was looking forward to his father's turn, but wound up a little disappointed, James didn't display any natural ability at fighting the curse. (Almost as soon as the spell was cast he was reciting Shakespeare, the role of Romeo interestingly enough.) But Harry would admit to a little happiness in seeing Severus Snape dance a jig and sing an Irish drinking song, with accent. While the man might become a master Occlumens, his teenage self couldn't battle the imperius curse. Another student by the name of Stewart-Benton declared loudly, after his failure, that "No one could ever break such a curse."

Barten laughed, "It can indeed be done, but as I said it takes an individual of very strong will."

And on that note, it was Harry's turn. As soon as Barten said the name Tempus, Harry had a bad feeling about it. He wasn't terrible worried about breaking the curse, he could probably explain that away. After all, he'd managed it in his fourth year as well. But he had a nagging feeling that playing around with powerful dark magic wasn't the best idea at the moment.

Barten was getting ready to cast. "Er, wait Professor," Harry said a little weakly. "I'm not certain this is a good idea."

Barten paused. "And why would you think that Mr. Tempus. Your other classmates haven't minded, surely you aren't worried I'll make too much of a fool of you." A few snickers from the back made Harry feel a little angry but not enough to lash out as he might have years ago.

"No, I'm just...well I just wanted to warn you I guess." Harry finished lamely. Even he didn't know why this seemed like a bad idea. It would be troublesome if it was discovered he could easily throw off a unforgivable, but it wouldn't be too difficult to blame it on a previous lesson from 'Spellwicks'.

"Warn me," Barten scoffed, "Prepare yourself Mr. Tempus. _Imperio_."

The curse zoomed towards him and Harry instantly felt the familiar calming effect he attributed with it. All his cares and worries were gone. But they weren't. A strong voice in the back of his head seemed to read off a litany of all his current problems and how easily things could spew into chaos. A small voice seemed to be saying something but Harry could barely hear it. Instead a wash of his own mind seemed to flood him for a moment, he needed to end this. This had to end. End. It. Now.

The class watched in stunned silence as Professor Barten was tossed violently across the room, he smacked into a wall with a hard thud. The magical pressure seemed to hold him in place for a moment before he felt the Imperius curse crumble away. Then the magic was gone and he crumpled to his knees weakly.

Harry stood still as a post for a moment before his green eyes opened and he took in his professor collapsed on the floor. He slowly approached, looking very nervous. "I'm sorry professor, are you alright?"

Professor Barten wheezed on the floor. Harry turned to his classmates. No one seemed to have moved. A few mouths hung open and several eyes had opened wide but most just stared at Harry in dull shock.

"Uh, maybe someone should get Madam Pomfrey?" Harry suggested.

Lily could be counted upon to snap out of her daze. "Yeah, I'll go." She climbed to her feet and hurried out the door, her robes swinging behind her and she jogged.

Harry turned back to the professor and rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm sorry sir," he said softly.

Barten's odd empty looking eyes managed to look up at him, an expression that seemed to be mixed with a little fear. Harry stood back a bit, not sure how he allay the man's concern.

A few other students were approaching now, all careful not to get too close to Harry.

"You actually broke it," Sirius said aloud. He stared at Harry Tempus with an odd sort of concentration.

"With a vengeance," James added.

A witch Harry didn't know was crouching next to the professor. "Are you alright sir?"

Barten waved her away. "Fine," he mumbled, his breath still heavy and his words distorted with a windy hiss. The Defense professor made it to his feet, standing with a tense posture and staring at Harry.

"You did warn me," the man finally said. Some of his color had come back in his face. "Class, you've just seen that is indeed possible to break the imperius curse, your classmate did so." He hobbled to his desk and took a seat in the chair. Once again he took his parchment and began writing, pausing every once and a while to rub his chest.

Lily and Madam Pomfrey soon entered.

Professor Barten seemed to sigh in frustration. "I'm fine Madam," he claimed harshly.

The nurse took in his posture and thought otherwise. "What have you been doing," she chastised.

"Class dismissed," Barten decreed. The students stared at him stupidly, they still had a half-hour of lesson left. "Get out," the auror ordered.

Madam Pomfrey waited somewhat impatiently while the students quickly gathered their bags and scurried from the class. Professor Barten's glare was enough to put fire to their heels.

As the door was swinging shut, the stragglers managed to hear, "Two broken ribs! What have you been playing at," the irate nurse's words were quickly deafened by the door.

Which was too bad, as the marauders had purposely let themselves fall behind in hopes that they might hear a little more.

James turned to his friends with a somewhat excited smile. "That was pretty amazing eh?"

"He assaulted a professor," Remus said, his tone implied how unprepared he was for what he had just seen. He'd never have thought it of Harry Tempus. The boy seemed so genial. Mind it didn't seem intentional... but Remus was still busy processing what he'd seen.

James waved his hands at his prefect friend, "Details, anyway it wasn't on purpose and he did warn him didn't he. Although how do you reckon he did it. I mean he managed to break an unforgivable curse, do you know how dark that magic is. And he not only did that, he nearly took out the person who cast it on him."

No one had anything to say to that.

"Hey were did he go?" James looked around. The three marauders, along with the other Gryffindors, were headed back to the Common Room. Lily was up ahead walking beside Alice.

But Harry Tempus was no where in sight.

-

Harry stared at the flickering flames with an angry expression still on his face.

He wasn't worried about Barten, the man would be fine. And Dumbledore would make certain that one hassled him too much. It didn't even matter that everyone had seen the display. Dumbledore had mentioned a forgetting potion for when he left. No doubt he'd only be a vague recollection for the students of this time. Not even worth noting.

But he was angry about how his magic had responded. It was his magic wasn't it. It belonged to him. Yet he'd had no control over the backlash that had knocked into the professor. He'd merely wanted to break through the curse like he always did, it had been the over abundance of magic that rested in his core that decided to strike back. Did this have something to do with the nature of the magic? The wards that had smashed into him were devised for defense, did that mean his magic now reacted badly if anyone attacked him.

Not a bad thing considering his history. But the lack of control still bothered him.

Meditate. Mediate. Harry looked at the fire and tried to ease his magic back under his control. He'd discovered over the summer that staring at the flames seemed to be his best method for calming whatever lay within him. Some people imagined waves on a beach, other people listened to music or envisioned a beautiful garden.

None of those normal methods worked.

Firstly, Harry had never been taken to the beach for holiday. His only memory of the sea had been when the Dursleys had dragged him to the hut on the rock in an attempt to hide him from the magical world. It was hardly soothing and the only water he could ever picture always seemed to be steely blue and rough.

As for music, Harry had never owned any tapes of cds. He did remember Dudley chucking his new cd player at him once. He'd gotten on hell of a black eye. In the wizarding world Harry's only musical experience had been at the Yule Ball, it went without saying that such an event was unusable for mediation.

And gardens...well gardens made him think of weeding. It made him think of being eight years old and locked out of the house on a hot day, weeding his aunt's garden on the chance that she might feel inclined to provide lunch for him.

But fire. There was something about it that was soothing. The flickering shapes, the warmth. He could watch it forever and forget himself in it. In the beginning he'd been a little worried that this was how people became pyromaniacs...but he hadn't felt tempted to set anything on fire, yet, so he'd decided to continue.

Not that meditation helped. Utterly pointless. Sure it was relaxing for a bit but once he stopped the magic was still there, still overflowing and in need of use. But he'd promised Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey that he'd give it a try. So whenever he felt his magic becoming restless he'd attempt once again to sooth it in this manner.

And when that method failed he moved on to the one that worked. He'd had enough of staring at fire.

Rising to his feet Harry looked around to the room that he'd chosen. The Room of Requirement would always feel like a safe haven to him. Not matter what time he had stumbled on. He'd manipulated the room into one he was comfortable with. In many respects it resembled the D.A.'s meeting room. He'd long ago discovered that the room could devise almost anything he could think of, which was why he grinned as a familiar blank faced dummy appeared before him. The device was one of his own imagining, a agile opponent that he could blast to smithereens if need be. It could also cast spells of a sort. Nothing creative but the lights it issued left a sharp sting if they touched him.

Harry bowed politely, his dueling dummy bowed back.

-

Had anyone paid much attention to the empty corridor on the seventh floor, they might have noticed some mysteriously loud bangs and clashes. The one first year who had gotten lost and accidently stumbled upon it was quick to leave. However after a few hours the noise subsided and a somewhat weary Harry emerged, he was sweaty and his robes were casually tossed over his shoulder, standing only in his shirt and pants. However despite the obvious physical exertion Harry seemed very relaxed and peaceful. He glanced at his watch noticing that he'd missed lunch, as well as the study period that Lily had been pestering him to go to.

He strolled back to the Common Room, not worried about things anymore. Doubtlessly people would have questions regarding Defense and he'd answer them as truthfully as he could. He had no intention of keeping anymore secrets than necessary, as he wasn't looking forward to learning which of his parents he'd inherited his curious, investigative side.

He was nearly there when he spotted an unpleasant sight. Peter Pettigrew was climbing the stairs ahead of him. However his initial revulsion was lessened when he spotted the way the other boy was limping up the stairs, cradling his arm and whimpering in a whiny sort of way.

Harry climbed the stairs at a swifter pace. Falling beside the rat animagus. "You okay Pettigrew?" Harry asked.

Peter turned in surprise. His face was a little tear streaked and he swiftly wiped at his cheeks. "Some Slytherin's jumped me," Peter tried to say, but he was slightly impeded by one of the spells that had been cast on him. "The other's weren't around so..." Peter continued to try and climb up the stairs but he was a sorry sight. He way limping a few unsightly jinxes still marked him. One in particular caught Harry's eye and inspired a bad memory, Pettigrew's two front teeth were growing and were starting to extend below his collar. His nose was also a little misshaped and it almost seemed like the skin was being eaten away.

"Here...let me..." Harry expression softened at the sight of the still innocent sixth year, but he couldn't quite muster the forgiveness needed to offer him a shoulder. "_Mobilicorpus_," he cast.

Peter looked at Harry in surprise as he was weightless lifted up, looking as if he were dangling from unseen stings.

"I'll take you to the Hospital Wing," Harry said, trying not to look at the other boy. "I'm not certain about that thing on your nose, but a friend of mine had her teeth hit with that spell and she came back looking better than she did before," Harry said.

"Thanks," Peter said sincerely.

Harry felt uncomfortable with the appreciative tone and just nodded.

They reached the Hospital Wing in silence, Harry opening the door and guiding the other boy through. Madam Pomfrey was seated at her desk paging through _Witch Weekly_ when they entered. She looked up, a flash of concern on her face.

"Settle him down over here," she instructed. She paid Harry little attention while Peter was lowered to the bed. Her wand was already out quickly evaluating the damage. "Mr. Pettigrew what in the world happened this time, a sprained wrist I see, luckily the arm isn't broken. And some very nasty jinxes."

Harry backed away, not certain if he could leave or not. He found himself staying.

"Now are you going to tell me about it this time?" she asked, her wand was already prodding him. His teeth had stopped their decent and his leg had been instantly wrapped into a splint.

"Nothing Madam Pomfrey," Peter said with a deceptive smile. Harry found he almost liked the rat better when he was lying made it easier to hate him. It was hard to not pity him moments ago.

"Nothing, yes, and then tomorrow a group of Slytherins will be in my Hospital Wing, and they will say that your friends attacked them, and if they'd had proof last time your friends would have been in a great deal of trouble. Now don't you think it saves us all the hassle if you'd just tell me now."

Peter hesitated for a moment, "It's really nothing Madame Pomfrey," he said softly.

"You've nothing to be ashamed of," the nurse continued, "I don't know why you seem to...I'll need a creme for that." The older matron turned and spotted Harry who was considering making a dash for it.

"You, you're the new boy yes." She gave him a stern look, one which caused Harry to smile nervously. "Stay here for a moment and make sure his nose doesn't get any worse. That is a tricky spell, I may need to have Professor Slughorn brew a potion for it...what I have may have expired." The nurse bustled away and Harry found himself next to Peter Pettigrew's bed, watching the boy's pointy nose and trying no to wonder what would happen if the spell did manage to eat more of the rat's face.

"Does it hurt," Harry finally asked. He wasn't certain what he wanted the answer to be.

"Not anymore, Madam Pomfrey numbed my face." As if to demonstrate Peter lifted his good hand and poked his cheek experimentally. "Can't feel it."

"Oh. So who was it," he asked. He didn't know why he cared.

Peter looked away, "Just some Slytherins. They always like to get back at me because James and Sirius are too strong...and Remus is really smart. I'm just useless."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Peter was looking upset again and Harry really didn't think he had the 'moral fibre' to comfort the man who would betray his parents. He could spare his life, but offering concern and support was a little bit of a stretch.

"Maybe you should have them teach you a shield charm," he offered.

Peter managed to look even more upset, "I'm rubbish at Defense."

Good, Harry thought. Hopefully that will make it easier to catch you.

Madam Pomfry returned, "Still enough left," she claimed happily. "The potion takes a day to brew, Poor Justin Kimble had almost his entire ear eaten away before Professor Slughorn finished this batch. Why they are teaching children flesh eating charms I'll never know."

"I don't think it's part of the curriculum," Harry added.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "You are right Mr...Tempus isn't it." She surveyed him with a gentler eye now. "Professor Barten in fine, he healed nicely," she mentioned with a cold tone.

"Oh yeah, I'm sorry about that," Harry said ruffling his hair.

Peter stared at him "You really do look like James," the blonde said.

Harry shrugged, "I guess."

Madam Pomfrey settled herself next to Peter and rubbed a thick amount of the red creme onto Peter's nose. Harry could see the flesh underneath already starting to take shape.

"I've already flooed your mother," the nurse added as she added more cream.

Peter jerked. "No, you didn't have to..." Peter squirmed. "She doesn't have to..."

Did Madam Pomfrey look a little sympathetic. "I'm sorry Mr. Pettigrew, she spoke to me last time and had me make a note to inform her if you were injured again."

Peter looked terribly uncomfortable, he caught sight of Harry and the feeling seemed to increase. "Uh, you can head back to the common room now," he seemed to urge. "I'm fine. You can let the others know I'm okay. I bet they're worried." Peter seemed to calm somewhat when speaking about his friends, and a warm gleam appeared in his eye.

"Sure," Harry agreed. He nodded to the mediwitch and turned to leave, but he was ambushed by a short a blonde woman in glasses. In her haste she spun him around but didn't stop to apologize. He should have left, but for some reason felt a desire to stay. Harry watched as she approached Peter's bed. Her hands wringing on a pink handkerchief.

"Oh Peter," she cried. Her voice was somewhat high pitched and panicky. "Are you alright, oh darling you worry me so much. Why do you have to worry me so much. I've told you time and time again you have to take better care of yourself. I've already lost you father, it would just kill me if I lost you too." She was patting his head and giving agonized looks at his nose.

"That isn't going to be permanent is it?" she asked the nurse pointing at her son's nose in the disgusted manner.

"No, he'll be fine."

"Alight. That's a relief. Peter why do you let these things happen, you worry me so much..."

Harry ducked out, closing the door to the hospital wing and muffling the noise behind him.

Harry found himself wondering about Peter Pettigrew. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. He'd much rather continue to see the Rat as he had. But life seemed to have a quirky sense of humor.

Harry gave the password to the Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole. His entrance sparked a great deal of muttering. Apparently the show he had put on in Defense had quickly spread through the Hogwart's grapevine. But no one was approaching him and Harry was comfortable with stares. He did spot the three marauders gathered by the fireplace and moved in their direction. Remus was reading, per usual for the bookish future professor. Sirius was guiding a paper airplane that was buzzing around some girl's head. James was watching his friend's progress, laughing when the girl tried to swat the airborne pest.

"Hey," he said by a way of greeting. Harry couldn't help but notice, that unlike Peter's prediction, the three didn't seem worried about their stray friend. Harry wasn't certain what that meant.

James looked up with a grin, "Hey Harry, that was some show in Defense. No wonder it's your best subject."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, it not really a big deal."

The others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "You attacked a teacher," Remus hissed, his voice a little concerned.

"Not badly," Harry argued.

James laughed. "Well it was awesome and you got us out of class a half hour early."

Sirius hadn't made a comment and was only watching Harry thoughtfully.

"Anyway, I wanted to tell you that Peter is in the Hospital Wing," Harry informed them.

"What," James leaned forward in his chair. "What happened."

"What did you do," Sirius growled.

Harry couldn't help but be annoyed by the accusation. "I found him limping up the stairs and took him to Hospital Wing," he glared at the offending animagus as he spoke. "And if you want to blame anyone you should turn that finger around. The Slytherins targeted him to get back at you for that ridiculous prank you had to play."

Sirius flinched back but than his face grew red. "Those slimy Slytherins, I knew it."

"How is he?" Remus finally asked, being the first the check on Peter's welfare.

Harry couldn't help but note that while everyone was angry, no one seemed very surprised. "He's fine, Madam Pomfrey is fixing him up."

"We should go see him," James said, he rose to his feet.

"Yeah find out who it was," Sirius gritted his teeth and clenched his fist.

"You really don't get it," Harry said sadly.

"What?" James asked.

Harry just shook his head and headed for the dormitory. He felt like getting out of the clothes he had trained in and into a cleaner pair. He didn't watch as the three Marauders hurried from the Common Room. In his own time he'd had his disagreements with the Slytherins. Name calling, a strict rivalry on game day, Malfoy's constant taunting...but things had never become a feud, not one where he and his friends were in danger if they were left alone. Even in fourth year, when tempers were high and the Slytherins were running around handing out 'Potter Stinks' badges, he had rarely come to blows, and never in such a coordinated attack. Was the tension in this time impacted by the war and Voldemort, or was it all triggered by James and Sirius's own attacks against the House of Snakes.

"Where were you." A voice intruded into his thoughts. Harry looked up, mildly surprised to see he had arrived in the Great Hall and was seated at the Gryffindor section. Lily was sitting across from him, her eyes a chilly green.

"Um, needed to blow off some steam," he answered honestly, "And I didn't really want to face all the questions."

Lily seemed slightly appeased. "Well there are questions. Everyone seems to think you're a really powerful wizard, and you've leapt to the top of Hogwarts gossip." She seemed a little disapproving.

"Joy," was his sarcastic reply.

"How did you do that?" Lily asked. She was lazily filling her own plate as she asked.

"I've had practice," Harry stated.

Lily choked on the pumpkin juice she had just swallowed, thankfully she didn't succumb to comic license and spray him in the face. "What?" she managed to say with a raw throat.

"At my school," Harry answered. "We covered the Unforgivables in my fourth year."

"Wow," Lily said, sounding very impressed. "You know I'm starting to think Spellwicks must be an amazing school."

"It has its strong points," Harry admitted, thinking back to his time.

Lily examined his expression. "Do you miss it?" she asked.

Harry took her question seriously. How much did he miss? He wasn't famous here, which was a relief. But he'd also managed to build a family of sorts in his own time. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys. It was ironic that he had his real parents before him and yet was somehow even more of an orphan.

"I miss my friends," Harry replied.

"I never thought of that," Lily said thoughtfully.

Harry divided his plate into sections, once again choosing a big dessert and a small amount of actual food.

"I can't believe that is how you eat," Lily said with a frown. "It's utterly unfair, if I ate like that I'd weigh three hundred pounds and you're skinny as a twig."

"I'm not skinny as a twig," Harry argued. He proved his point by flashing a few muscles and grin that was frighteningly like James Potter's.

Lily chuckled, which wasn't comforting. "You should at least eat healthy food," Lily pressed on.

"I don't know Miss Evans," another voice entered into the conversation. "That meal looks excellent. I think I'll have the same, and maybe a wedge of that chocolate cake."

"There is chocolate cake," Harry peered further down the table. "Oi, pass that this way," Harry called down the table. To his utter surprise it worked. "Good eye Professor," Harry added looking up at the headmaster.

"Anytime Mr. Tempus, I was hoping we might have a word after dinner, in my office."

Harry nodded agreeably. "Sure professor."

"Don't forget your own dessert Miss Evans," the tall wizards advised seriously.

"Yes Sir, Professor Dumbledore," Lily agreed with a nervous smile.

The headmaster nodded pleasantly before continuing his stroll to the staff table.

"On no, you're gonna be in trouble about Defense today." Lily raised he hands and started tapping her mouth in a nervous gesture. "I don't think he'll expel you, calm down Harry," she hastily reached out to pat his arm, knocking his fork from his hand. "Surely it was an accident and you did warn the professor, and it's not as if he was hurt too badly, and it really isn't your fault I mean how can we be expected to predict how we'll respond to dark magic that had been banned by the ministry. Okay, just relax Harry, Dumbledore is a fair man, he'll consider all the issues. Maybe you'll only be suspended...I don't remember what the punishment is for harming a professor, I never thought it would come up, but– "

Harry allowed her to rant, finding the entire thing amusing. However when he started laughing Lily seemed to catch on.

"Sorry," Harry said trying to turn the laugh into a cough, "It's just you should see your face."

"This isn't a joke," Lily said, her heart like face taking on a sharp look. "You've been called to the headmaster's office, usually they just send people to their Head of House."

Harry shrugged, "Yeah but nothing I do can change it right? And Professor Dumbledore seems like a nice bloke. Sure every thing will be fine."

Lily seemed a little outraged with casually calling the headmaster a 'nice bloke' but she let it slide. Peering at his curiously, she stated, "Aren't I the one supposed to be telling you that?"

"No one's died Lily, it's really not that bog of deal."

"I suppose that is one way of looking at it," she allowed.

The pair continued their dinner, later joined by Alice and Frank, as well as a classmate of Franks who wanted to know how Harry had bested the Imperius curse. Harry gave the man he same answer he'd given Lily and prompted the conversation in another direction.

But soon the meal was over and Harry had seen Dumbledore leave the staff table a few moments before.

"I'll see you in the Common Room," Harry said.

"Do you know the way to the headmaster's office," Lily asked.

Harry nodded, turning to leave with a steady step. The fact that he wasn't even nervous about meeting with Dumbledore made the others glance at each other.

"He must be powerful," Frank's friend Ethan said with a distinct tone of awe in his voice, which made Lily glance heavenward in annoyance.

"He explained to you that he already learned about the unforgivables before," Lily said, she wasn't a fan of Ethan's revered tone.

"Lily most aurors can't beat the Imperius curse," Frank added.

"It's also the way he is with Dumbledore," Ethan argued. "He's...it's like he isn't..." Ethan couldn't seem to find the words to complete his sentence.

"I'll admit he doesn't seem to show the proper respect," Lily said with a frown.

Alice reached over and swung at Lily's head, "You know for someone so smart you can be pretty dumb at times."

"What?" Lily asked.

"Never mind," the blonde dismissed. "But hey, you've been spending a lot of time with the new kid." Alice smiled and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"I've been showing him around," Lily groaned, "Don't start acting like Black and Potter."

Alice was affronted. "Don't compare me to them," she said, an uppity tone to her voice and her nose in the air. "I just wondered if you might be starting to think of getting a boyfriend of your own."

"Oh goodness," Lily shook her head. "I don't _want_ a boyfriend, did you ever think of that. Maybe I want to focus on my studies. There is plenty of time for dating when I'm older."

Alice gazed at her friend but wasn't particularly surprised by the statement. "Yeah well, some day you might change your mind."

Lily flipped her hair over her shoulder, "I think not."

-

In the headmaster's office none of the student's fears were realized. Dumbledore had complimented Harry on his ability to break an unforgivable, and his assured that Professor Barten was fine and held no ill will. Indeed, the Defense professor had asked if Harry could share how he'd managed to break the curse with his class.

"I don't know about that Professor," Harry said a little sheepishly. "Won't that just make me stand out more."

Dumbledore grew thoughtful. "Perhaps" the old man conceded. "But I feel some students might benefit greatly from your skill."

This time it was Harry who grew thoughtful. "I'll think on it Professor."

"Good, now onto other matters. How are you faring, I am curious what it is like to travel so near in time."

Harry scratched his head. "It does make you wonder about things," Harry said with a tinge of gloom to his voice.

Dumbledore grew still. "Sometimes seeing the whole picture Mr. Potter, is a hard thing to bear. But it is only by seeing the truth, and knowing its many dimensions, that we are able to see what is right."

Harry nodded, Dumbledore was still as cryptic as ever.

"Well good night Mr Potter. And if I were you I wouldn't worry about your new found obsession for sweets."

"Professor?" Harry asked, a little confused about the change in topic.

"There is a great deal of magic about you Harry Potter. I myself have found that having a sugary snack handy helps to wear that burden a little better."

Harry wasn't really any more clear on what the headmaster was saying, but he nodded regardless. "Thanks Professor, night." Harry crossed to the stairs and closed the door behind him. Albus Dumbledore had watched the boy's retreating back with an odd sense of hope. One which he knew he didn't yet have the right to feel.

The corridors were still mostly empty. Students were likely either still at dinner or perhaps in the library finishing up any work before curfew. Harry pondered what he wanted to do with his evening. He wasn't planning on putting much effort into his homework. He'd complete Professor Barten's essay from memory. Seeing as he was probably the only person alive to have experienced all three unforgivables gave him a slight advantage.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, just a few more hours and this Thursday would be over. All considering, it hadn't been the worst one he could remember.

A hand snaked out and gripped his robes with a surprising firm grip. Harry was yanked off his feet and found himself being dragged to the left and into a spare class room.

He'd spoke to soon.

Harry found himself staggering trying to stay on his feet. But he managed it. The grip had let him go and Harry found himself able to look up at his attacker.

Sirius Black stood in the shadows of the classroom. The sun had set already but a faint glow of light allowed the young pureblood's features to stand in sharp contrast.

"Sirius?" Harry found himself saying, forgetting that here, in this time, he wasn't exactly friends with the young man.

"I don't like you," Sirius said.

Harry raised in eyebrow. Yeah, they weren't friends. "So what did you bring me here for?" Harry found himself unconsciously tensing, watching the man's hands to make sure he didn't raise a wand. This level of alertness made him feel sick, he didn't want to have to fight his godfather.

Sirius eyes looked black in the dark. And as the silence dragged on, Harry found himself feeling somewhat concerned. Not for himself, but for the wizard before him. There was something about this Sirius, something that reminded Harry of another man. A man who had endured years in the wizarding prison of Azkaban, a man who was desperate and hollow, a man who should have no resemblance to the prankster before him.

"I need your help."

-

A/N : Thank you reviewers. Your comments always allow me to step outside the story and see it in a different way. I hope to here from you again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Helping People and Helping Yourself

Day: Evening of Day Two (Time to work on some issues)

-

"I need your help"

Harry stood in the empty classroom at a loss for what to say. That had been the last thing he'd expected to hear from angry teen he'd gotten to know; this Sirius hated him, and truth be told, Harry wasn't especially fond of him either.The boy was too caught up in his disputes with the Slytherins, too convinced of his own superiority—so much so that he couldn't let Harry's intervention yesterday slide. Perhaps it was cruel to think, but all the torment that the adult Sirius had endured had made him stronger. Somehow those empty years in Azkaban had tempered his ire. This boy before him, wasn't the man Harry knew.

"What?" Harry finally managed to say. He didn't look at Sirius as he spoke, instead he stared out a window to the loft. While empty, this room was spotless, another show of the House elf's dedication to their vocation.

Sirius looked away uncomfortably, "I wouldn't come to you if it wasn't important. I'm not going to lie, and act like we're friends. You're not my friend."

Harry let out a breath of air, "You're really convincing me to help you," he said sarcastically.

"Shut it," Sirius said fiercely, "I don't like asking for this, but I need it."

Harry shook his head.

"What do you need?" he found himself saying. Despite all that had happened Harry couldn't reject Sirius, because Sirius Black, the man, meant more to Harry than his teenage counterpart could know. He'd died for him. Sirius could have asked for anything and Harry would never have been able to say no.

"I..." Sirius looked away again. "You need to help me break the Imperius Curse."

"Why?" Harry asked, honestly confused.

Sirius just shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Then I don't need to help you," he bluffed. He turned around to leave.

Sirius moved forward and caught his shoulder.

"Wait," he protested, his voice for the first time sounding human, loosing the commanding tone that had dominated his 'request'. "Just wait."

Harry's expression softened. "Why?" he asked again without turning around.

Black stared the boy's back, letting his hand fall to his side and ball into a fist. Sirius was madder than he'd ever been. If Tempus thought he was gonna humble himself and beg...The young pureblood swallowed. Hell, he realized with a crushing sensation...if that was what it took...

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll tell you how I do it, but I don't know if it will really help. When I learned my professor kept casting the curse on me until I could break it completely."

"So..."

"So, I'll help you all I can, but I can't cast the Unforgivables." Harry spoke hesitantly, wondering if he was telling the truth. When he'd first witnessed the spells only a few years ago, he'd have thought that it was impossible for him to even consider such magic. But only last year at the Ministry he'd attempted one.

Sirius nodded, not noticing the other's discomfort. "I already spoke to Professor Barten, and he said he'd help... but he said even he couldn't break the curse. I was hoping that if you were there... and you helped me..." Sirius didn't grin, but his face had lost some of its desperate quality. He was looking more like the young man he should be.

"Barten said he had time tomorrow, after dinner." Sirius nodded, trying not to look in Harry's direction.

Harry nodded. "Alright."

Sirius made a move to leave but stopped short in the doorway, his back tensing.

"I don't want people knowing this. If you can do that, I'll think about letting the other thing go."

With a clipped walk Sirius Black left the empty classroom and a rather confused Harry Potter.

Harry stood alone for a moment trying to piece things together, but in the end he decided it wasn't worth thinking about, the curfew had past and he needed to get back the the Gryffindor Common Room. Sirius Black was a good man, him being able to block the Imperius curse could only be a good thing. Did it really matter why he needed to know so desperately? He realized the flaw in his logic. This teenage boy wasn't quite a good man yet. But for all his faults, sometimes Harry had a hard time looking at him and not seeing the person he would become.

Harry left the empty room behind and entered the Common Room. He spotted Sirius joking and laughing with his friends, looking completely different than the man he'd seen only moments ago. That meant that whatever was involved, Sirius wasn't confiding with his friends.

Harry sat down in an armchair, choosing one with its back to the marauders.

What to do? He couldn't remember what classes he had tomorrow, and he wouldn't study for them if he did. He stared off blankly, looking at this Common Room a little wearily. For all his lies, he really was like a new student. No one here looked very familiar. It was disconcerting to be in a place you knew well, even be sitting in a chair you'd sat in hundreds of times, and yet feel misplaced. If he were hope he and Ron might play a game of chess while Hermione lectured them to do their homework, all while secretly helping Harry in his hopeless quest to beat Ron. Hermione was brillent and Harry was lucky, but even the pair of them couldn't overcome Ron's mastery of the game.

"Hey, Harry," a voice intruded in his memories.

Harry looked up, what's his name, Ethan something-or-other, was standing above him.

"Hey," Harry greeted.

"Frank and I were planning on a game of Exploding Snap, want to join?" The seventh year was somewhat tall and lanky, with brown hair and noticeable stubble on his chin, but he'd seemed nice enough.

Harry shrugged.

"Sure." He had no other plans that evening, and perhaps a little time away from the parents would do him good.

Half an hour into the game, Harry was starting to suspect that Frank and his buddies took Exploding Snap a little more seriously than anyone Harry had ever met. For them the game was almost as competitive as Quidditch. Frank, Ethan and two other seventh year Gryffindors all seemed more like a bunch of mobsters playing cards than four dorm mates. They gathered around hiding their cards carefully, constantly accusing the others of cheating and if anyone played exceptionally well there were suspicious mutters from the others around the table.

"Glad I didn't start a game of poker with you guys," Harry said when they'd finished a hand.

"What's poker?" one of seventh years asked. He was one of the ones Harry had just met, which meant he was either Barty or Mack. But Harry couldn't tell them apart. In his head he'd labeled them Draco and Ron, as one was blonde and the other red headed.(Imagining playing exploding snap with Neville's dad, Ron Weasly, and Draco Malfoy, caused him to be in a slightly ridiculous mood, which is the best mood to be in when playing cards with strangers.)

"It's a muggle card game, one with betting," Harry explained.

"Are you a muggle born Tempus?" Draco asked sounding surprised.

"No," Harry answered, examining the cards he'd been dealt. "But I was raised by muggles."

Ron leaned forward, "I never would have thought that," he mused before playing a card.

"Cheating bastard!" Draco cried.

"What's with having four fives? You've been getting good hands all night," accused Ethan.

Ron just grinned, "What can I say, Lady Luck is on my side."

"I still say we take a good look at your sleeves," Draco muttered mutinously.

"Want me to play starkers?" Ron asked with a grin. "Didn't know you were that sort."

Draco merely smiled, and Ron quickly got back to shuffling the cards.

"So you were raised by muggles? What was that like?" Frank asked with honest curiosity.

"Okay," Harry lied with a shrug.

The others shared a glance.

"Not a good liar is our Harry," Draco mused.

"So if you aren't a muggle born, any relation to James Potter?" Ethan probed. The card players spared a glance for the Potter heir who was discussing something in whispers with his friends.

Harry glanced too, "Not that I know of. But my Dad was the pureblood and he died when I was little. But then aren't all the old wizarding families connected in some way."

"Yeah, maybe you're cousins of some sort, all the old families are intermarried." Ethan cringed as he said this.

The others hooted and jostled Ethan.

"I forgot about that! How far did you get with that girl before you found out she was your second cousin." Ron shoved at Ethan playfully, while the taller boy tried to shake him off.

"Shut up! She was one nice bird," Ethan argued in his defense.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco said with a grin, "That she was. You wouldn't happen to have her floo number handy?"

Ethan smacked Draco with a text book that was lying nearby. Apparently this had started as a study session.

"What, it's not like you're gonna use it," Draco protested before being coshed again.

"You must be related then. Look too much alike to be coincidence." Ron drew another card while the others watched him carefully.

"I don't think I've heard the name Tempus before," Frank said thoughtfully. He turned to Draco who also shook his head in the negative.

"Well you and Barty would know," Ron allowed. He nudged Harry. "Ethan and I are half-bloods as well," Harry looked at him for a moment, okay, so he's probably Mack.

"Raised by muggles though, that was a tough break," Draco, perhaps Barty, said with a cringe.

Harry shrugged, "They weren't too fond of me. But they took me in," he said, thinking that the excuse sounded reasonable.

Draco shook his head, "Wizarding kids shouldn't be given to muggles," he argued.

Frank shifted a bit. "I don't know, I mean muggles have got just as much rights to their kids and family as wizards."

Draco shrugged in a non-committal way.

The players returned to the game, leaving such weighty issues behind. Harry was glad. He also managed to lose most of the games, so he got along well with everyone. Some time before eleven o'clock the activity of the day caught up to them and everyone started heading to bed. Harry stayed behind for a moment to find out what classes they had tomorrow. Defense, Charms and Double Potions. Great, he'd have to devise some sort of essay to hand in tomorrow for Defense. But what did the grade matter anyway?

Frank was collecting the cards that had scattered away during the many explosions of the evening. Harry found himself lending a hand.

"You guys always play like that?" Harry asked.

Frank grinned.

"Since first year. We were dorm mates and couldn't really find anything else we all liked, because we're all really different. So we play a few games every once and awhile keeps it friendly, which is good since, between classes, meals and the dorm, we see a fair bit of each other," he said. "We still haven't figured out how Mack cheats though," he admitted with a grin.

Harry knelt under the table to remove a jack that had somehow wedged itself under the leg.

"About Barty," Frank started, "He didn't mean anything bad about your muggle relatives. His Dad's a ministry hard nose, I think he has to hear a lot of the politics at home."

Harry didn't really care, "S'alright," he said a yawn stretching the sentence. Then he stopped dead.

"Barty." He said the name softly. Suddenly the youthful face under a pile of straw colored hair took on a different meaning.

"Night," Harry muttered. He hastily dropped the cards he'd gathered on the table.

"Night," Frank agreed watching as the younger man practically ran to the staircase.

-

Up in the dorm for the sixth years Harry felt like he was going to throw up, or hit someone. Barty. Barty Crouch Jr. Why hadn't he recognized him before? He didn't look all that different than when he had been dragged out of courtroom ten, he'd seen it in Dumbledore's pensieve. Merlin, that was all going to happen in only a few short years.

Harry rushed to the bathroom and splashed cold water into his face, trying to numb the nausea that had taken hold of him.

"Shit," he cursed at the mirror, his fists pounding the porcelain of the sink. Why hadn't anyone told him that Crouch had been a Gryffindor? That he had been a dorm mate and friend to a man he'd later torture into madness?

Voldemort he could take. The man was a nutter with a god complex, evil to the core of his blackened heart. That was somehow easy and acceptable. It was all the mess that Vodemort left in his wake that seemed to jump up and bite at Harry. It wasn't right that Frank Longbottom had played cards with the man that would torture him and his wife. It wasn't right that James Potter protected and sought revenge for Peter Pettigrew when the rat would someday betray James, his wife and his son.

"Fucking hell," Harry muttered. He stared at his face in the mirror and realized just how pale he was.

Harry moved back into the dorm room and got into his pajamas, the same green trousers he'd worn the other night.

"Well it shouldn't be that hard– " James Potter followed by Sirius and Remus entered the dorm room lugging books and bags.

"Hello Harry, you going to bed?" Remus said.

"Yeah," Harry muttered. He climbed into bed, shut the hangings, and lay in the darkness, listening as the other three got ready for bed.

"Too bad Peter's stuck in the Hospital Wing," James said.

"I won't miss his snoring," Sirius's wry voice commented, "But we'll have a nice surprise for him when he gets out."

Harry didn't need to see Sirius to picture the man's wolfish expression.

"Shhh," James ordered.

The voices dropped. But Harry didn't care. He was past worrying about what sort of revenge the marauders had in mind for the Slytherins. It was stupid, and would only result in worse problems, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

It wasn't long before everyone else stumbled into their beds and the lights were extinguished. When you slept with your curtains closed, it was practically pitch dark. If Harry couldn't feel the bed beneath him, he might question if he wasn't floating through some void.

He kicked at his covers ruthlessly, unable to sleep. He felt a little too upset to just drop off to sleep as he found himself remembering all the stupid things Barty had done during the game. He tried to find some hint of the monestrous deatheater that lay beneath that genial face, but he couldn't. The man was slick. Hadn't Harry believed the boy's performance in the pensieve? Hadn't he been willing to believe that Crouch sent his innocent son to Azkaban and death? And all those months as Moody, deceiving even Dumbledore...

Or wasn't he that man yet? Was that only what he would become?

Without realizing it, Harry tumbled into disturbing dreams.

-

Lily Evans had stayed up later than she'd intended. It had been the essay she'd been working on for Defense—she'd only intended to write the required amount, but somehow she'd gotten interested and the length had extended. She'd always taken her studies seriously, but she wasn't exactly an over achiever. Maybe if she were to describe herself, she'd call herself an advocate. Advocating what, though? She didn't really know yet. But someday she wanted to help people, maybe make the wizarding world a better place, have it give up its prejudices and stereotypes. Harry had called her a crusader, and perhaps he was right.

But there was something about this assignment that had sparked her interest. It wasn't as if she was sort of witch that was fascinated with the dark arts, but the Ministry's history with these curses was interesting—they'd been legalized, banned, punishable by fine, constantly changing depending on who was in power. It was even worse when muggles were involved, because prior to 1842 there was no punishment if these curses were cast on muggles. Being muggle born, Lily found that little tidbit somewhat alarming.

As she climbed into bed, she wondered how many other laws weren't extended to muggles. Hopefully things had improved in recent years, but what it must have been like for muggleborns in the past?

"Lily?" A voice intruded on her thoughts.

Lily looked up and cringed. "Hortense," she greeted, "Going to bed?"

Hortense Muller was standing beside her bed dressed in a pink beribboned night gown.

"Yes," The girl said softly, "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Did you now?" Lily asked with false cheer. The girl before her didn't mind the false enthusiasm and moved forward.

"Yes, you are in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class right?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Lily agreed somewhat confused. Defense wasn't exactly a subject that had ever interested Hortense.

"Maggie said that the new boy, Harry Tempus, managed to throw off the Imperius, is that true."

And the world righted itself. Lily should have known that Muller wasn't interested in the subject. "Yes," she admitted without offering any details.

"Oh," Hortense said, she seemed to brighten some, her eyes taking on a glow. She gave Lily a pretty smile.

"Now you aren't thinking of stringing him along too?" she asked with a girlish giggle.

"What?" Lily asked feeling completely lost.

Hortense's smile became a trifle forced.

"It's just, you know Lily, your thing." She said the word "thing" with an emphasis that left Lily feeling no less confused.

"My thing?" she repeated.

Horstense sighed before smiling again.

"Oh don't misunderstand, I'm sure you get a good time out of watching James Potter dangle, and it's most amusing for us too." Hortense's tone said quite clearly that she wasn't amused, "But you really don't need to be that way with every boy, and Tempus really shows promise." With another smile Hortense went back to her bed.

Lily was fuming. She had been an idiot not to get the subtle insult thrown her way. It was times like this that she hated being a girl. There had to be some release in getting in an actual fight—these biting comments always left her floundering. Oddly enough it was different when she was arguing with James Potter; then it was like the words just flowed off her tongue.

Lily turned her back on the dreadful Hortense and let herself fantasize for a moment. If they were both men then it could have been a proper fight. She honestly wouldn't mind hitting Hortense anyway, but that would just cause more trouble—Hortense would blubber on an on about how Lily had attacked her from nowhere, how she was the innocent party. And Lily was a prefect, and hitting students wasn't one of the privileges allowed under that title. But it was nice, for a short while, to imagine the shocked expression on the pig's face when she got what she had coming.

"I know that look," Alice said, joining Lily on her bed. The blonde girl's hair was wrapped in a towel and her face was flushed from a warm shower.

"Sometimes she just makes me so mad," Lily moaned. She looked behind her, but Muller was busy painting her toenails and seemed to be ignoring Lily now.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. She's just jealous because she's spent her Hogwarts's years trying to get a husband and no one is interested in her, and you know James is pretty— "

"Don't say it," Lily interrupted.

"I'm just saying," Alice pressed on, "He's pretty consistent. Ever since he starting focusing on you he hasn't been seeing other girls."

"That we know of," Lily commented darkly.

"We'd know, Lily; most girls would shout it from the astronomy tower if the prince of Quidditch asked them out," Alice said, rubbing at her hair and giving her friend a humorous glance.

Lily rolled her eyes, "Whatever that means. And it isn't like I'm trying to get him to like me!" Lily vented, targeting in on the one thing that had insulted her the most.

"Nope, so... doesn't that say he likes the real you?"

Lily didn't know what to say to that. Ever since her best friend had 'fallen in love' she'd grown increasingly cryptic. "I'm going to sleep," she stated, promising herself that she'd forget this entire conversation.

Alice shook her head, "You know, if you were as decisive about James Potter as you were about everything else, you wouldn't have nearly the amount of trouble that you do."

Lily shut her curtains and didn't say anything.

-

Day 3 (And there are reasons why sleep is good.)

-

Harry awoke feeling feverish. His dreams had been worse than usual—he'd awoken sometime after three and only fallen asleep again at five. He was also once again certain that he'd ventured into dark territory. But which Dark Lord's head had he been visiting? The active one here, or the one that was currently comatose in his time? Everything had been too foggy to see clearly, so all he'd been left with were swirling emotions. Hate, anger, vengeance, and some sort of emptiness that Harry couldn't quite name...

He opened his curtains enough to peer out; everyone still seemed to be asleep. He reached out and he grabbed the watch that had been lying on his night table. Only a little past six. Harry sighed—he'd been hoping to get a little more respite. But it couldn't be helped and after the last hour of quasi slumber, he sincerely wanted to get away from sleep. He found no rest there.

Getting out of bed he tugged on his uniform and selected the books he'd need for the day. Defense, Charms and Potions, if he recalled correctly. Thinking of Defense made him remember the essay that was due. While he had no intention of producing quality work, Harry didn't want detention for not turning in an assignment. He'd write it before class during breakfast.

With this is mind, Harry left his dorm and the Gryffindor Common Room. If only it was as easy to leave his frustration behind... It had only been two days and he was sick of this time. He wanted to be back in place where he didn't know the future. For all Trelawny nattered on about it, knowing the future, quite frankly, sucked. He didn't want to rub elbows with future betrayers, murderers and their victims. He'd managed to learn a bit more about his parents, now all he wanted was to go home.

Harry walked through the halls with his head down, he was weary from a night of little sleep. Not many of the other students were awake yet, and he enjoyed the quiet of the halls. When he entered the Great Hall for breakfast it wasn't quite as quiet. A few other students were already present, as were most of the staff. A few people were reading newspapers with grim headlines. It was an odd feeling for Harry. There was still Voldemort, there was still war, but in many ways he had never been safer.

Harry settled at the Gryffindor table. The food wasn't out yet, which left more room for Harry to spread out his parchment.

Harry blandly titled his essay, "The Unforgivables."

In the first paragraph Harry described the Imperius curse and how it could be broken. He also wrote a small portion on how to best identify those under its sway, taking his information from Bartimus Crouch Sr. as well as Viktor Krum. For the Cruciatus, Harry described what it felt like, as well as the potential long term effects. The paragraph on Avada Kedavra was a little less thick. Harry described the color of the light, the fact that it couldn't be blocked. Well, technically it could, but no one knew that yet and Harry wasn't about the share that information. Being the onl person to ever survive the Killing curse had brought his enough fame in the future already. Finally, on the last line, Harry offered the small consolation that the killing curse didn't seem to cause its victims pain. Death from the killing curse often came as a surprise.

It wasn't quite as long as it should be, but it was enough to demonstrate he'd put in some work. At least worthy of an Acceptable, Harry thought. At the very least he wouldn't have to spend detention with the Defense professor. Merlin only knew what sort of thing Barten would have him do.

And the food appeared.

Harry wasn't particularly hungry, again, but he nibbled some toast half heartedly. He spread on the marmalade extra thick, and sipped some pumpkin juice as well.

Remus Lupin sat down beside him.

"I give up," the bookish boy announced as he sat down.

"On what?" Harry asked.

"Those two, if they want to make it to class in time they should buy a bloody alarm clock." The werewolf cursing seemed somewhat out of character, but then Harry was just beginning to get to know him as a friend.

"Finishing an essay?" Remus asked peering at the parchment that was somewhat splattered with jam.

"Writing it," Harry answered with a grin.

Remus looked at the title, "Cutting it a little close eh?" he inquired. "I thought you liked Defense."

Harry took another sip of his juice, "Yeah, but not the homework." He folded up the parchment and tucked it in his bag.

"Sorry I didn't ask, but how did your conversation with Dumbledore go?" Remus asked while choosing his own breakfast.

"How do you know about that?" Harry wondered aloud. The werewolf and his trouble making friends hadn't been present when the headmaster had requested a word.

Remus merely gave Harry a patronizing glance.

"Ah, the gossip network," Harry acknowledged, although with an ounce of annoyance. "It went fine, the headmaster just wanted to remind me not to toss the faculty about. Undermines their ability to lead, or something like that." Harry glanced up at the batty old man as he spoke, to which Dumbledore raised a fruity looking glass in response. Harry found himself looking longingly at the small green umbrella that was floating in the beverage.

"Now that is just unfair," he muttered.

"Huh?" a confused Remus asked.

"Nothing," Harry dismissed. He turned back to Remus, "So Defense, Potions and Charms."

Remus straightened.

"Professor Slughorn teaches Potions. He's...friendly," the werewolf allowed with a forced voice. "Professor Flitwick teaches Charms, he's a good teacher," this time he spoke with conviction. "He was also a dueling champ, twenty years ago or so."

Harry nodded.

"So...it's Friday," Remus mentioned, watching Harry's reaction.

"Yeah?" Harry asked in a questioning manner.

"Nothing, just wondering why the day meant so much to you yesterday." Remus helped himself to his food.

"No, just Thursdays," Harry said. "I used to like Tuesdays...suppose given the odds it's still my best day. But Thursdays are tricky. I've never got the hang of Thursdays."

Remus merely shrugged, as if to say that Harry was a brand of crazy that he didn't want to be involved with.

"So what do you do on the weekends," Harry asked.

"Not much this weekend," Remus stated, "Although James is sure to get a pick-me-up game of Quidditch going. The season hasn't started yet but both he and Sirius are more than a little obsessed."

Harry's eyes took of a hint of a gleam, "Excellent."

Remus rubbed his temples, "I forgot, you're a nutter for the game too."

"Of course," Harry said with a grin.

"What position?"

"Seeker," Harry grinned, taking another sip of his juice.

Remus grew thoughtful, "James started as seeker, but he became a chaser as soon as a slot opened. You know it is eerie how similar you two can be at times. I pretty sure James doesn't have any relatives...otherwise I'd swear you were related."

"Hey," James said, plopping down next to Harry, "Me and this bugger aren't anything alike." Swinging his arm around the other boy he said with a grin, "Only with a great deal of work and perhaps some human transfiguration could he hope to equal my handsomeness."

Harry rolled his eyes. Still... "So, you planning a quidditch game this weekend?" he asked hopefully.

James grinned, "Sure, that's right, you're a player too."

"Course it's next weekend that is going to be fun," Sirius said. He'd still managed to situate himself away from Harry, but he was no longer ignoring his existence.

"Next weekend?" Harry asked.

Sirius was rapidly piling his plate with food, so James found himself answering, "Hogsmeade weekend, first of the year."

"Oh." Harry nodded.

A bell chimed.

"Class," Remus called. Harry nodded and they both rose to their feet.

"But my breakfast," Sirius complained.

Harry grinned, "See you there," he said, allowing Remus to drag his friends away from the table.

However, he regretted his hasty departure when he arrived at the Defense classroom, only to find he was the first student to arrive. Barten was at his desk and watched Harry carefully as he entered. It seemed to take longer to get to a desk than usual and Harry quickly settled himself.

Barten continued to stare at him steadily. "Did you complete your essay Mr. Tempus?" Barten addressed him with a cool tone.

"Uh, yes sir," Harry replied. He was now very glad that he'd written it.

"Well, turn it in Mr. Tempus, I'm very interested in what you have to tell us."

Harry gulped. He fiddled with his bag, locating the wrinkled parchment he'd finished only moments ago. Finding it he stood to his feet and walked to the front of the room. Barten continued to watch him and Harry straightened, refusing to be intimidated by the Defense professor, he'd faced worse.

"Thank you," the professor claimed, taking the parchment. His lips curled somewhat as he took in the breakfast stains that marred the document.

Harry returned to his seat and released a sigh when two other students entered. They were Slytherins, but not ones he was familiar with. Barten had them leave their essays on his desk, but Harry realized with a nervous kick in his stomach that the man was currently reading his.

The Slytherins watched Harry with a slightly appraising look, almost as if he were a curious artifact. Harry had a feeling that his display in class hadn't been forgotten yet.

Remus, trailed by James and Sirius, also entered. Sirius ignored Harry and settled in the back, and James followed, although Remus seemed to hesitate for a moment before following his friends.

Of course, Harry didn't have to worry about being alone. "Morning," Lily greeted.

"Morning," Harry agreed. He watched at the red head settled herself next to Harry, arranging her books beside her. Alice seemed to be running a little late again.

"I was a little surprised when I did the research for the essay," Lily commented.

"Oh," Harry didn't have anything to add considering he hadn't researched anything.

Lily looked at him as if she knew all his failings, "Yes. I mean to think that muggles weren't protected, even in recent times? Muggle hunting was once actually a sport! Can you believe that?"

Harry considered some of purebloods he knew.

"Yep," he nodded with all seriousness. It was quite easy to picture Draco Malfoy enjoying such a sport, provided he didn't have to get his hands dirty.

"Well I think it's barbaric," Lily announced.

Harry didn't think anyone was really going to argue with her there.

Alice entered, finding a seat next to her friend. "Good Morning, Lily, Harry," she greeted with a sappy sort of smile, one that Harry was beginning to interpret meant that she had spent some time with Frank.

Another bell chimed and everyone turned to face the professor. It seemed starting class with the Unforgivables had given the man a sense of respect from his students.

"Good, class, today we are going to move onto the Cruciatus curse."

Harry stared ahead mutely. He wasn't quite certain what the man had up his sleeve that he meant to spend the entire class on one unforgivable. With the Imperius there was something that could be learned but the Cruciatus curse was a pretty basic one. How long did it take to explain: duck or OUCH!

Harry found that, indeed, the Defense Professor could drone on about one curse. The man discussed its history, who invented it and why, he explored the possible benefits of the curse... or at least the ones that had been argued (including use as a trusty childcare device), as well as exploring some of the medical explanations for why exactly the curse caused pain.

Harry pretty much ignored the whole thing. Knowledge was all well and good, but he'd go back to his previous statement; all you really needed to know was duck or OUCH! Not really that complicated. Perhaps he would add one thing. If you are hit with it don't try and be a hero and not scream. Go ahead and bloody well scream.

"Now that we've discussed some of the medical implications behind the curse," Barten concluded. "I think it best to move on to how the curse feels, to the victim cast upon. I want you all to realize the reality of this curse. Do not underestimate it."

Harry had no idea why the man thought they would 'underestimate' the Cruciatus. But then, Harry supposed, that even with all his lecturing, Barten hadn't demonstrated it. Harry found himself looking upward, wondering why the man hadn't. The Defense Professor hadn't faltered when casting the Imperius. But why wasn't we demonstrating the Cruciatus, not on students of course, but the bugs the fake Moody had provided were convincing enough.

"Mr. Tempus," Barten called, causing Harry to stir in his chair.

"Yes sir," he said, with some reservation.

"I noticed your essay was very detailed about how the curse feels, perhaps you would like to share your information with the class?"

All eyes were on Harry; however, the raven haired boy appeared calm.

Inside Harry was fuming. What was Barten getting at? It was one thing to write about this in some assignment—even knowing that it would be read and graded, somehow writing something always seemed more anonymous. But to explain it aloud? Harry had never told anyone what that felt like! The only time he'd even come close had been with Dumbledore and Sirius after the event in the graveyard. But even then, they hadn't felt the need to pry into what it felt like to have an Unforgivable torture curse cast upon you. He'd never even told Ron and Hermione.

"It hurts," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Explain, Mr. Tempus, you did a fine job in your essay, please be as explicit for the class."

Harry was shaking slightly. It was to such a small degree that not many would notice, and his hands, throbbing in rage, were hidden under his desk.

"Would you like me to read your essay aloud?" Barten asked with a keen eye.

Harry felt it was time to take his cue from Hermione, before he said or did anything he would regret. Rising to his feet, he met the professors gaze as he swept toward the door.

"Mr. Tempus," Barten called firmly as Harry grasped the door knob, "Class is not over."

Harry ignored him, opening the door. He fought the urge to petulantly slam it behind him, settling for a quick snap instead.

Harry had managed to outgrow most of his teenage angst, but some of it snuck up at odd times. He'd be damned if he was going to spill his guts on how the Cruciatus curse felt to his parents. He couldn't do it with Alice, Neville's mum, seated so near to him. In an odd way Harry felt angry that Barten had wanted them, indeed all of them, to know. They felt like such... children.

Which was stupid. He was the same age as they. He knew better than anyone what sort of trials they would face. Wouldn't it be better to have them fully prepared? Still, even with this logic he didn't want to do it. Perhaps that was all it came down to. Some things are personal, and if a man can't keep his own torture to himself, then what can he?

Harry was beginning to realize he should have just taken the detention for the missed assignment.

Without really knowing why, Harry went to his next class. Which was Charm, if he recalled correctly. He found himself waiting in front of Flitwick's classroom, leaning against the wall, watching the empty hallways with detached eyes.

He fumbled with his bag for a moment and found what he'd been searching for, the bag of lemon drops that Dumbledore had thought to include in his monstrosity of a trunk. He took one out and allowed the sour sweet flavor to take his mind off his mood. He didn't want to be that bloke again, not the one who gave into every frustration. But he sure as bloody hell wasn't going to be meditating into so fire, so candy would have to do the trick.

The Charms class let out, a stream of first years, all of whom seemed very short, they emerged smiling and excited. Harry found himself smiling too, remembering his first year and discovering how wonderful magic could be.

"Hello Harry," a squeaky voice said at his side.

Harry turned and tried not to flinch, "Pettigrew," he greeted.

"Didn't you have Defense," the shorter boy asked curiously.

"Yeah," Harry dismissed. "You look better," he added.

Peter shrugged, "Yeah...well, Madam Pomfrey does good work. I'm always amazed at how she patches up Remus."

Suddenly Peter paled, horrified at his slip of the tongue. He shot Tempus a somewhat panicked look, but the Harry acted as if he hadn't paid any attention to his words.

"So, you're taking charms," Harry asked dumbly.

"Yep. My best class." There was a tinge of pride in his voice at that. Harry supposed everyone had to be good at something. Come to think of it, Peter must have had some role is casting the Fidelius Charm, which couldn't have been the easiest spell in the book.

The pair stood in a somewhat awkward silence, running out of things to say. However finally it seemed like the last of the first years had left the classroom, Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and entered.

Harry didn't bother looking around, and found a seat in the back with a good view of the window. To his disappointment Peter seemed to have decided to find a seat near him. Harry chanted a new mantra in his head, 'no good deed goes unpunished.' Well if Pettigrew thought that he and Harry were friends, he would be quickly disillusioned.

Flintwick didn't look much different either, at least not to Harry's mind. The man still seemed to zoom about the classroom as if on a permanent sugar high, and for all Harry knew he was. Dumbledore and himself couldn't be the only wizards with a fetish for sweets.

The other students, the ones who hadn't escaped their classes early, were arriving. Harry was only spotting Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Perhaps Charms was popular enough that the class would be split the standard way between two houses. Harry decided he'd had enough questioning what the student body of the 70s was like and decided to stare out the window. Oh look, a bird.

It wasn't long before the Gryffindors from Defense class entered. Lily forsook her usual seat in the front to go and sit in the desk in front of Harry.

"Hey," she prodded.

Harry ignored her.

"Harry," she tried agin.

More ignoring. If she bloody asked him if he was alright he was ditching Charms as well.

The Marauders joined Peter, smiling in greeting. Pettigrew's face seemed to relax some now that they were here. He smiled too, looking quite pleased when Sirius gave him a pat on the back. Sirius moved a little closer, saying something so low that probably only Peter could hear. The boy nodded, his eyes gleaming in excitement.

"Hello class!" Flitwick greeted. The man stood almost eye level with the desks but that didn't seem to dismay him.

"Last class we discussed the freezing charm, as well as other water related wand work. Today we will be going in the opposite direction and looking into how charms can control the earth. And hopefully teach you some useful charms for gardening as well," Flitwick coughed, seeming a little sheepish, "But I wouldn't try these spells in Herbology. Professor Pod isn't found of 'cheating' as he puts it."

Flintwick soon produced three large boxes, which began to fly around the room. He instructed each student to remove one item from inside of each Harry peered in the first box that approached—it was a collection of rocks. Harry chose one at random. The next box contained small bottles of sand, the third a small, and rather unhealthy looking, plant, possibly a marigold.

Soon everything was piled on his desk and Harry wondered what they were going to do with all this. However, he did find himself somewhat excited as this was the first lesson which wasn't a repeat for him. Not that being taught things he already knew didn't make him feel smart, but he supposed it really wasn't a good use of his time. And it got boring.

Flitwick began lecturing on how different charms could impact the things he'd provided. One charm could turn rocky soil into fertile earth, another could manipulate rock formations, and a third could really aide in the health of non-magical plants.

"Everyone into pairs to practice," the friendly man squeaked, somehow saying the words Harry least wanted to hear.

He looked around wondering which group he should be most wary of. Lily and her need to 'make sure he was alright', or the Marauders and their boundless questions?

However, when Harry emerged from his fretful decision making, he discovered how pointless it all had been. Remus and Peter had already gathered together, as had James and Sirius. Lily and Alice were also now sharing the same desk. Indeed it seemed the whole class had partnered up.

Harry scratched his head. Well, that was interesting.

"Without a partner?" asked a voice coming from his elbow. Harry looked down to see the younger looking Flitwick gazing at him kindly.

"Yeah, but I don't mind working alone," Harry was quick to suggest.

"Nonsense," the small professor argued. He moved towards Lily. "Miss Evans, would you mind taking on a third?"

Lily smiled warmly. "Of course not, professor."

Harry didn't bash his head against his desk, an exercise in extreme self control.

Harry moved himself beside Alice, hoping she'd be a buffer. "So Charms, and doesn't it look exciting."

Alice snorted. The blonde witch smiled as she watched Lily glare at the dark haired boy.

"So, lets try and give this marigold some life," Harry tried again. He pulled out his wand, looking at the dour plant. "Vetrius" he cast.

Under the yellow-green light that came from his wand, the sickly looking plant seemed to burst with life. Springing into the air the plant became a bush and towered over their heads. Harry looked up with a curious expression.

"Well, that wasn't right," he said.

"Mr. Tempus!" Flitwick joined them, "Well cast, Mr. Tempus. Not quite what I'd intended, but good work. I daresay we might find a home for this one somewhere about the grounds."

Harry scratched the top of his head, "But this isn't what's supposed to happen, right?"

"Well no, but it still looks wonderful, doesn't it? Lily, perhaps you could help Mr. Tempus exert a little more control over his spell, hm?"

His mother and the Charms teacher seemed to have a good relationship, and the red head smiled and again said, "Of course Professor."

Flitwick levitated the plant off their desks, as it had overtaken their workspace. However when the man's back was turned Lily raised an eyebrow.

"And what were you on about last class? Just walking out on a Professor like that?" Harry noted that she seemed more angered about the implied disrespect than his actually missing the class.

Harry smiled, or rather attempted to.

"What, class wasn't over? I could have sworn I heard a bell."

Alice hid a smile while her best friend spluttered.

"I think what she wanted to know was why you pulled a runner just because Barten was asking to read your essay."

Harry shrugged, "He wasn't asking anyone else to read theirs."

"Then it should have been an honor to have him think your essay was so well done!" Lily argued.

"How about this rock to earth charm? Anyone want to try that?" Harry offered.

"Sure," Alice agreed, deciding to help him along. While Lily was energized by the support of a teacher, not everyone felt that way. She raised her wand and pointed it at the small grayish rock that she had chosen. "Eurthasis."

The rock crumbled into a powdery substance.

"Not bad," Harry encouraged.

Alice tipped her head in his direction, "If utterly failing is not bad."

"It just needs more of a flick at the end," Lily coached. She pulled her own stone forward, "Euthasis." Lily's stone also shattered into powder, but the shade changed to a dark, blackish brown color. A perfect soil for growing plants.

"Don't think I'm letting the matter in Defense drop," the red head added with a nod in Harry's direction. "You just can't act that way with a professor."

"He started it," Harry argued lamely.

"I just don't understand why you didn't read your essay. You don't seem really like the shy type," Lily pressed on.

"Look, he shouldn't have asked," Harry said. He pulled out his own wand, feeling a little frustrated he cast the Eurthasis charm with a little more force than needed. Like Alice, Harry's rock also turned to powder, it also managed to explode, covering the people in the immediate vicinity with a gray dust.

"Sorry," Harry called. His two partners were the most covered and both girls sneezed, wiping at their faces and hair to try and clear the sooty substance away.

"Mr. Tempus?" Flitwick asked, he neared the class again. "Perhaps you should just observe your partners today."

Harry nodded.

Flitwick cast a quick cleaning charm and soon the desks and the students were clean.

"Fine," Lily said. "I don't get it, though! It's not like it's anything personal, not like you've been under the Cruciatus yourself, but whatever. Just don't treat a professor so poorly."

"Barten doesn't deserve my respect." Harry said, glad that the red head hadn't noticed his slight flinch at her previous statement.

"He's a Professor," she argued.

"And that doesn't mean he's always right. Professors are people, and people make mistakes." Harry spoke with a firmness, this was something that he believed in.

Lily opened her mouth but Alice nudged her, silently advising her to let the matter drop.

The threesome managed to finish Charms without any more explosions, something everyone was thankful for. Harry's large marigold plant was put aside to be planted on the Hogwarts's grounds. Harry wondered if he would be able to find it once he returned to the future.

Once class was over Harry managed to blend into the stream of students heading toward the Great Hall. He hadn't spent much time with the Marauders, but if they had taken note of his action in Defense, it didn't show. But perhaps he shouldn't expect much outrage from a group that spent their free time planning pranks.

Lunch was a rather empty event. Harry ate at the Gryffindor table. Lily was ignoring him, which he didn't really mind, Alice was chatting with Frank, and the Marauders were absent. The other seventh year Gryffindors, whom Harry had played Exploding Snap with the previous evening, tried to draw Harry into their conversation, he wasn't interested. Ethan in particular seemed eager to chat with him, but Harry kept his answers brief and tried to look busy with his food.

Potions was next, which meant Professor Slughorn would be teaching. Harry had met the man on a few occasions—originally Dumbledore had intended to hire the wizard to teach Potions. However, when Harry had "defeated" Voldemort over the summer, it seemed that things had been put on hold. However, for some reason the headmaster had wanted Professor Slughorn handy, seeming to fear for the old wizards safety. Thus, Slughorn had volunteered to teach the younger years. (Originally he had asked for the sixth and seventh years, but apparently Snape had raised such a stink that Slughorn had amicably chosen the first through third years.) Despite the fact that Harry wasn't exactly his student, the Potions Master still sought him out for his collection of famous wizards. That manipulative aspect of the man's character didn't make him Harry's favorite person, but he'd willingly admit that he did envy the younger years. A potions lesson without the greasy bat... it was a wonderful, if impossible, dream.

For such could never be. He'd managed to slip through time and was still sharing the same classroom with Severus Snape, albeit in a different role.

Harry had left lunch early and arrived when only a few students were milling about. It was no surprise that Severus Snape was already present; the future Potions' Professor was paging though his text and scribbling into the margins. Harry wondered if Slughorn, as Head of Slytherins House, had already clued in his students what potion they would be dealing with today. It would be a very Slytherin thing to do.

Harry chose an empty desk on the Gryffindor side and pawed through the potions supplies McGonagall had provided. She'd been somewhat perturbed to have to do so, even if the Headmaster had assured her that Harry would be getting his own in a few weeks. Still, she hadn't skimped; he had all the basic ingredients.

Someone pulled the chair next to him, taking a seat. Harry looked over... He didn't know her. The girl who had taken up residence beside him had tightly curled brown hair. She flashed him a smile, one which he returned hesitantly.

"Hello," she greeted. "I don't think we've met before."

Harry shrugged. "I haven't met a lot of people." He was tempted to turn back to his cauldron and leave it at that. But it seemed a little rude. "Harry Tempus," he said with a half smile, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

"Hortense Muller," she replied, taking his hand with a light grasp.

Harry nodded. All right the introductions were done, he could go back to staring at his side of the desk.

"I'm so glad I get to share a class with you," she said with a simpering voice.

Harry nodded, "Eh, yeah. I haven't seen you in any of my others."

Hortense giggled, "Oh, I'm not smart enough to get into NEWT level Defense or Transfiguration," she said simply. "You must be very clever."

Harry looked at her a little oddly, "Eh, not really," he admitted quite honestly. Hermione was the smart one, he just got by.

"Oh don't be silly," she admonished, her hand petting his shoulder as she spoke.

Harry had the feeling that her hand was lingering longer than necessary. He found himself looking at her a little closer, wondering why he had this vague feeling that something was missing. Ah! She needed an 'I 'heart' Harry Potter' button. Then she'd be the picture perfect example of one of his fan girls.

Harry found himself inching subtly away. Where was the bloody Professor when he needed one?

Thankfully, the class was quickly filling up. The Marauders traipsed in with a cocky air: Sirius was looking far too smug and it didn't sit well with Harry. Lily entered and with her usual zeal found a place in front. If Harry recalled his mother was quite good at Potions, even if she did prefer Charms.

"Good afternoon class!" Slughorn welcomed. The very over-weight man didn't look much different than he would in the Harry's time. His moustache still had a touch of gold, but it had mostly passed to silver. He stomach was just as large and even clothed in a waistcoat that Harry thought he'd seen him wear in the future.

"Now last class we discussed some of the tricky, but helpful, medical potions that we will be making this year. Today we will be working on a fever reducing potions. Very useful, but also potentially poisonous if brewed wrong. 'When in doubt, go to St. Mungo's, they'll help you out' Very catchy phrase, I know Benjamin Barrel who dreamed it up. As well as the slogan for Wiz's Men's Wear, 'If it's a custom fit, It's a Wiz'. Very clever chap."

Slughorn tapped his wand on the board and the potion's instructions appeared.

Harry recalled that he'd made this before... in his fifth year. Of course, he also recalled his potion had ended up looking like a cauldron of mud, as opposed to the turquoise shade it was supposed to be. Slughorn walked about the room chatting with his students, lecturing about the potion and offering helpful hints.

Serverus Snape was not listening. He was writing in his textbook and ignoring the cheerful hints Slughorn was passing around.

"Right, you all got that. Pip Pip, get to it then," Slughorn grinned and waved his hands in an encouraging manner.

Harry got to work, this time trying to pay attention, although Hortense was making that difficult.

"You know you look a great deal like James Potter," Hortense whispered, leaning toward him as she spoke.

"You don't say," Harry said as he measured out his essence of Oleander.

"Yes, you really do." She moved a little closer. "He's quite popular you know, eveyone thinks he's very handsome."

"Uh huh," Harry agreed. Where were those beetle eyes? Slughorn had said they need to be ground to a fine powder.

Hortense huffed.

"Are you related?"

"To who?" Harry asked. He added the two ingredients together and made certain that the fire was slightly blue, hinting that it was the right temperature.

"James Potter," Hortense pressed on.

"Oh, him. Eh, no, not that I know of," he lied. "Shouldn't we be concentrating on our potion?"

Hortense giggled, "Oh I'd never be able to manage a tricky potion like this."

Harry paused to stare at her.

"Then why are you even taking the class?" he asked curiously.

Hortense shrugged, "Because I needed another class."

"What do you want to do when you graduate then?" Harry was honestly curious. In his time, he didn't spend too much time chatting with fan girls; he spent more time running. But he wasn't famous here.

Hortense looked at him blankly. "I'm going to get married," she answered, as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh, well, congratulations," Harry said. He quickly turned back to his work. Yes, he'd been right to run.

It was about this point when three of the Slytherin cauldrons started smoking. The four all looked at the potions in confusion, not seeming to understand the problem. One of the four raised his hand.

"Professor?" he called.

Slughorn was toward the front chatting with Lily, both seeming to enjoy the conversation.

Suddenly the four smoking cauldron's exploded, and the bright red liquid inside coated the four Slythrins with a thick paste. They all shrieked in either surprise or anger, Harry wasn't certain. One of the students was Severus Snape, and the future Potions master wasted no time in turning towards the back of the classroom, where James Potter and his friends had settled themselves. Sirius waved in a friendly manner at the four potion covered students. The pureblood swung his arm around Peter, grinning all the wider.

"What is going on?" Slughorn asked. He approached the students, careful to not step in the potion.

"We did everything right," one of the Slytherin's complained.

"Obviously not," Slughorn said in a friendly manner. "Well, no matter, even the best Potions Masters wreck a cauldron from time to time. Why, Charlus Bigweither even destroyed his counter top, and we all know he went on to invent the Sickly Stomach Elixir, which helped me after a fine meal on more than a few occasions."

Snape, however, wasn't appeased by the man's geniality, and he continued to stare harshly at the Marauders, likely mumbling his plans for vengeance under his breath.

"Scourgify," one of the Slytherins tried. The potion disappeared; sadly, the color did not. The Slytherins and their clothes were speckled with varying splotches of red—one them seemed to have taken the blast almost full in the face. He now resembled a tomato more than anything else.

The Gryffindors were laughing. Even Harry had to admit that seeing Snape with rosy red cheeks was enough to get a snicker out of him.

"I think I know what happened," Slughorn said in all seriousness. "You boys need to make sure that you clean your cauldrons throughly before working. There must have been a trace of Belladonna, that tends to react... surprisingly... with Essence of Oleander. And with the beetle eyes... well, you will get that distinctive shade."

The four Slytherins seemed to join Snape in his glaring; however, to Harry's surprise, none of them seemed to try and alter Slughorn's perception. If anything, that was an even darker sign, as it seemed that, indeed, a feud was starting between the two houses. One where professor invention wasn't wanted.

"Well, you four are dismissed. I'd try linseed oil... good luck. Everyone else continue with their potion brewing," Slughorn instructed the students.

Harry got back to his potion, as well as parrying Hortense's questions. He had to hand it to her, the girl was persistent. Still, by the end of the double period, Harry was happy that he'd emerged with a potion that was turquoise, although not as brilliant a shade as the one that earned Lily two points. He also emerged from class without a fianceė, which, considering Hortense's efforts, was the greater achievement.

"At dinner you can come and sit with my friends and me," Hortense said, pulling his arm, "You must be so tired of having Lily boss you around. And she's a terrible flirt... I wouldn't take any of her attention too seriously."

Harry pulled his arm loose. "Actually, there is something I have to do." With that, he did the only sane thing and bolted.

He reached the library before he stopped, he looked at the doors in a reverent manner. If there was any place that Hortense Muller wasn't likely to visit, it was here.

"I didn't expect to see you here," a now familiar voice said.

Harry turned to see Lily standing with her arms full of books.

"Here, let me get the door," he offered.

The prefect nodded.

"Thanks." The pair entered the library, Lily stacked the books on the librarian's returns desk, and Harry, for no apparent reason, decided to stand beside her.

"You're not avoiding me anymore?" the red head asked.

"You're not mad at me?" he questioned right back.

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Having to deal with Hortense Muller for a double period is punishment enough."

Harry laughed, "According to her, you're a terrible flirt, and I shouldn't give your attention any importance."

Lily's mouth opened, her green eyes flashing. "That...URG, she is so annoying."

"Maybe you should prank her," Harry suggested. "I'm sure James will have some suggestions."

Harry was a little surprised that she didn't immediately reject the idea.

"Let's get to dinner. I'll be a terrible flirt and keep her away from you. I think she'll find that worse than any prank."

Harry grinned, "And yet I'll be thankful."

Dinner. Why did that strike a chord in Harry's mind? It wasn't until he and Lily reached the Great Hall that he remembered. Tonight, after dinner, he was going to give Sirius Black his first lesson on breaking the Imperius Curse.

Harry Tempus, Sirius Black, and Professor Barten, all in the same room, bandying about a Unforgivable curse. No reason to worry at all.

-

A/N: I like to take the oppurtunity to thank all those who wrote reviews. In particular those of you out there who took the time to respond in full sentences and complete thoughts. I really enjoyed hearing your thoughts and opinions, and I hope that I will continue to entertain you.

Also today, I'd particularly like to thank my new beta, Kylani. Not only is Kylani a person who can beta under the pressure of a hard deadline, but one who also can give me the strict feedback I need. Any errors that remain in this text are likely my own willful decision to keep them in. Kylani is probably shaking a fist in my direction, but what can I do. Stubbornness is in my blood.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Dangerous Timing

Day: Three

Entering the Defense classroom by himself was perhaps a bad sign about this evening's lesson. When Harry had finished his dinner he'd given Sirius a glance, but the eldest Black son had easily ignored him. Perhaps it was best that Alice had appeared to distract Lily as Sirius seemed eager to keep tonight's event quiet. Harry found himself heading to Defense on his own.

For a moment, considering his tension with the Defense Professor, he almost decided to wait until a third party was present. But if anything Harry wasn't a coward, and baring the possibility that Barten was a Deatheater, well then he didn't really have anything to fear. Of course considering that two of his previous Defense Professors had been in league with Voldemort, perhaps his odds weren't too good.

"Good evening Mr. Tempus, I see you've beat Mr. Black." Barten was seated at his desk. A pile of essays were beside him, he'd been grading. Seeing Barten like this was somehow less intimidating, the man had shed his robe was and dressed in slacks and a simple muggle t-shirt.

"Evening," Harry replied.

"I was somewhat surprised when Mr. Black confirmed that you would be willing to help him. You don't seem fond of the Unforgivables," he didn't look up as he spoke, instead he marked a grade on one of the essays with a flourish, moving on to the next one.

"Well, who does like them," Harry allowed carefully.

Barten looked up, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

Harry scratched his neck uncomfortably, "I don't know how much use I can be," he found himself saying.

Barten paused again, he tapped the current essay with his quill, "I said much of the same to Mr. Black. But he seems convinced that you will be able to help him. And I'll admit, having someone who can successfully break the curse may be encouraging if nothing else."

Silence fell between them. The only noise was the scratching of the quill. Harry found himself looking at the clock, wondering how much after dinner Sirius was planning on waiting.

"Mr. Tempus," Barten said suddenly. "I do want to talk about class today."

Harry's teeth ground together, "Yes?" he asked with false curiosity. If Barten wanted him to apologize about leaving class, well then the Defense Professor would be disappointed. Harry could stand a lot of things, he'd gotten good at it. But he didn't feel bad about his actions today.

"The Cruciatus curse, you didn't want to discuss it because you've felt the effects. Am I right?" Barten was looking at him straight on now, reading his body language like a book.

Harry nodded.

Barten raised a hand rub the bridge of his nose. "Your description of the curse was very accurate. I'd hoped you'd merely found a good reference book, or perhaps had witnessed some incident. But when you refused to speak, well I feared such might have been the case." The Professor watched him, Harry found himself meeting the man's gaze. There was no pity in his eyes, which was a relief.

"In that case," the professor said slowly, "I am sorry about class today. I suppose I wanted to think that someone of your age wouldn't have felt the effects of that curse. But perhaps that is not the world we live in."

Harry nodded, "Thanks."

"No problem," the man smiled, "But if anyone asks, you met with me tonight as part of your detention."

A grin quirked at his lips, "Yes Professor."

Barten looked at the clock. "Now where is Mr. Black. It was his idea to come asking for lessons wasn't it."

"He probably has to arrange some way to ditch his friends," Harry explained thoughtfully.

Barten nodded, "You may be right. I've been warned about that bunch, thicker than thieves, or so the other professors would have me believe. But if that were the case then why would the young Mr. Black feel the need to keep this secret?" Barten cocked and eyebrow in Harry's direction.

The young time traveler had realized that the Defense professor was very observant.

But it was then that a flushed Sirius Black entered the room. "Sorry," he huffed, breathing deeply.

"It was you who wanted these lessons was it not," Barten said with a harsh tone.

"Yes sir," Sirius grumbled.

"If you're planning on behaving this way, why not cancel the whole thing," Barten threatened.

"No sir, I...I want to learn." Sirius's voice took on a forceful tone, he stood straighter and stared the professor in the eye.

Barten paused, "Alright then, provided you are not wasting Mr. Tempus's time, and more importantly my time, then we shall proceed."

"The Imperius curse is all a matter of willpower, although some have argued that long term exposure to the curse can also build up a resistence." Barten was still seated in his desk, but he spoke like a teacher giving a lecture.

"Now, as I've told you Mr. Black, this may not be something you can _learn_ as the ability to withstand this curse is varied person to person. I myself have experienced it and was unable to break it. However, as you've seen, Mr. Tempus seems to have the knack."

"Why is that?" Sirius asked.

Barten looked at Harry thoughtfully, "Perhaps it is because he has a strong will, perhaps it is merely because he has experienced it in the past and has built up a feel for it. I can't really say. Mr. Tempus?"

Harry shrugged. "The first time was when my professor put me under it. He did much of the same as you did, casting the curse on us and asking us to preform silly tasks. He told me to jump on a desk...but it didn't make sense to me so I jumped and tried not to jump at the same time."

Barten watched him speculatively. "Hmm, you managed to resist on your first attempt, that is indeed impressive. Who was your teacher?"

Harry paused, "He was an old auror, Professor Madeye." Harry was quick to slur the last two words together. If he remembered rightly, Alastor Moody wouldn't even have his magical eye yet, so the man wouldn't likely make the connection.

Barten was thoughtful. "I'm not familiar with him. However, my lesson was based on some auror training exercises, so perhaps." Barten looked pensive for a moment before turning back to Harry.

"Perhaps if you explain your thought process while under the curse."

Harry nodded, he turned toward Sirius who had been listening with some interest. "Well, I suppose the biggest thing to fight against is the feeling of calm that the curse gives you, you want to feel at ease so that you don't think about what you're doing. But if you know that such a state isn't right to begin with, that is half the battle. Then, I guess I just fight back against the voice in my head. Just argue right back."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "So you want me to just argue with the voice in my head?" he questioned. "That's really supposed to help?"

Harry shrugged, "Helps me."

"But how do you, you know, like blast him across the room." Sirius pointed to Barten and made a sweeping gesture with his hand as he spoke.

"That's not really, I mean you don't need to do that, and I didn't the first couple times I broke it," Harry argued.

Sirius frowned. "Sounds kind of lame, argue with the voice in my head. That's your advice?"

"Well, prepare yourself Mr. Black,_ Imperio_," Barten wasted no time in casting the unforgivable on the young wizard.

Sirius's expression was interesting to watch. There was a definite sign of a some debate raging, his eyes went hazy and he stood strangely rigid. It took almost a minute, but soon Sirius was dancing the waltz and singing a tune Harry wasn't familiar with.

When the spell was released Sirius groaned in frustration.

"You were fighting it," Barten said in an encouraging manner.

"Little good it did," Sirius muttered. He moved away from both his tutors and collapsed into a chair with a dark expression on his face.

"Did you argue," Harry asked.

Sirius gave him a hard look, "Yeah, I think. It's just, you're right, it feels nice to just enjoy the peace..." Sirius shook his head and looked away.

"Maybe that is why I don't have much trouble," Harry admitted.

Sirius looked at him strangely, "What do you mean by that?"

"I guess I just don't feel that way normally enough. You might want to try and think about all the reasons that you don't feel that way, remember your problems, your secrets." Harry felt strangely like he was back in the D.A., teaching once again.

Sirius nodded his head, looking out the window.

"Ready Mr. Black," Barten asked.

Sirius nodded, a somewhat hesitant look on his face. "Go for it," he said without much animation.

"_Imperio,_" Barten cast.

Once again Sirius seemed to fight the curse for a few moments before following Barten's every order. As the lesson progressed, Sirius attempted five more times, eventually fighting the curse for over a minute, but never managing to break it. Once Harry suggested that Barten instruct Sirius to do something that the young man would not willingly do in his natural state. Harry wondered if the performer and prankster in Sirius may have made him less opposed to making a fool of himself. Baten then instructed Sirius to confess about a prank he had pulled. Harry seemed to be correct, Sirius was never closer to breaking the curse then when he attempted to disobey that order. But Barten and Harry still learned that Sirius had been responsible for dosing some of the Slytherin student's juice at dinner this evening, in another attempt get revenge for Peter. Let us say that the Slytherin bathrooms would be a popular place this evening.

"Ten points and detention, Mr. Black," Barten decreed once the boy was free of the curse.

"That isn't fair," Sirius cried, "You wouldn't have known if you hadn't been casting unforgivables on me."

Barten gave his student a hard look, "Many men have been forced to do unforgivable things under these curses Mr. Black, be thankful your actions only resulted in detention."

Sirius only glared after that, not saying anything.

"I think we've had enough for tonight," the Defense Professor stated.

Harry nodded. Sirius made no gesture to the others in the room, just rose to his feet and left.

"Night," Harry said.

"Goodnight Mr. Tempus," Barten acknowledged before returning to his desk and the essays he'd been grading earlier.

Harry found himself jogging though the halls of Hogwarts to catch up with Sirius, "Hey," he called when he was near enough.

Sirius didn't bother turning around, "What do you want?" he asked sourly.

"Uh...nothing," he said, not knowing even why he'd bothered to chase after Sirius. It wasn't as if they were going to have a good chat, still he felt compelled to try, "That was rough huh?"

Sirius turned around rapidly, "I don't need this from you Tempus," he growled.

Harry paused at the anger in his words, "Okay."

"And another thing, we aren't friends. Outside of lessons I don't want you to talk to me, look at me, don't even act like you know me. Understand." Sirius was panting somewhat, his face flushed in anger.

Harry couldn't build up the will to be angry, "Yeah sure," he said.

Maybe it was how Harry had said it, maybe it was the tone or the body language, but Sirius's expression seemed to calm some. He licked his lips and opened his mouth, then shook his head in a decisive fashion. Without saying another word he turned on his heel and continued his swift pace back to the Common Room.

Harry let the distance grow between them. It was coming on curfew and he should be rushing back as well. But back to what? To spending time with his dead mother? To watching betrayers and betrayed sit side by side? But he didn't have any other choice. For the first time he almost wished that his magic was overflowing. It would be very nice to hide away in the Room of Requirement for a few hours and let his training regimen wash over him and leave him hollow. But his magic was calm.

"It's almost time for curfew Mr. Potter," said a familiar voice.

Harry turned around, smiling softly, "Good evening headmaster," he greeted.

"Indeed," the man nodded, "I've just been called by Professor Barten, he seems quite– " the man hesitated for a moment, "impressed by you ability with the unforgivable curses."

Harry shrugged, "I was sort of wondering how long it would take for him to contact you."

Albus smiled faintly, "Indeed, only moments after your lesson with Mr. Black., Michel decided to pay me a little visit. He was...concerned about the familiarity you have with these curses."

Harry paused, "You don't want me to explain that do you?"

"No indeed Mr. Potter," Albus agreed. "I think we both know that it would be better for me to know no more, I'm already having Professor Slughorn brew a forgetfulness potion for the entirety of Hogwarts for when you leave. I believe the recipe calls for one of your hairs, I'll no doubt be asking for one at some point." Dumbledore strolled through the halls with Harry as he spoke, a light and cheerful tone to his voice despite the seriousness of the situation.

Harry grinned, "Just so long as it isn't Polyjuice he's brewing."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, "We already have two James Potters roaming the halls, I think that should be sufficient."

They reached the Gryffindor Common Room and stood for a moment beside the Fat Lady who was snoozing in her frame, her soft snore was the only noise in the corridor.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "I'm starting to believe that this may be a very painful trip for you, and that you are carrying a large burden by being here and remaining silent. I...I wish there was something I could do my boy," the old man said with a sad tone. He patted the boy's shoulder, his eyes seemed duller in some way.

Harry nodded, "It's alright sir," his protest was half-hearted.

Dumbledore nodded, "Good luck young man, and good night." The headmaster turned and walked down the hall.

"Night," Harry called after him.

Watching the professor for a moment, Harry turned and prodded the Fat Lady. " Mesopotamia," no reaction, "Heh, I need to get in," he said.

She huffed grumpily, "Well alright then." With bleary eyes she swung open.

Harry entered the Gryffindor Common Room, looking around to see most of the students playing wizarding games or chatting and laughing with friends. It was a Friday night and the students of the past weren't behaving any differently than the student of Harry's time. No one seemed to have a book out, but then this wasn't Ravenclaw. Harry knew that the impending weekend probably wouldn't have stopped Hermione, now there was a Gryffindor that believed in serious studying.

Harry caught a glimpse of Lily, the red head reminded him of his bushy haired friend in many ways. However Lily was seen without a book in sight, she was chatting with Frank and Alice. Although Harry thought he caught the slightest hint of tension in her readable face. There was something very 'third-wheel' about her position among that grouping.

Harry approached with a grin, "Hey," he said with a warmly.

Lily smiled in response, "Harry," was there some relief in her tone?

"Hello Harry," Alice greeted, "And what was good boy like yourself doing coming in a little past curfew." She smiled cheekily as she spoke.

Harry found himself feeling just as teasing in response, "And whoever said I was a good boy?"

The blonde laughed and Frank smiled warmly. "He did toss a teacher about the room," the older boy added.

"And walk out of a class," Lily said with a frown.

Harry shrugged, "What can I saw, girls love the bad boys."

Everyone laughed at that comment, perhaps a little too hard. "Hey it wasn't that funny," Harry protested.

Lily patted his shoulder in a condescending way, "Don't worry, I'm sure some girls are mad about you. In fact...I think I see Hortense headed this way."

Harry subconsciously seemed to flinch and looked around nervously and if the would be fan girl was about to descend from the ceiling.

People laughed again and Harry found himself joining them.

"So you're Hortense's latest attempt," Frank said with raised eyebrows.

"So she's already made a circuit has she," Harry asked. He settled himself in one of the nearby arm chairs.

Frank nodded, "Indeed. Her family is sort of famous for attempting to marry better. Her grandmother was a muggle born who married into the Penting family and Her mother was a half-blood who married into the Muller family."

Harry seemed unimpressed, "Should I know them?"

Frank shrugged, Alice who was sitting on his lap toyed with his hair as he spoke, "It doesn't matter to me, but they are pretty important in the Ministry and the Wizengamot. I think Hortense is aiming for an even more impressive husband."

"I'm surprised she didn't wind up in Slytherin," Harry commented.

Frank shook his head, "Clever and cunning isn't exactly part of her strategy, she's quite open with her intentions"

Alice agreed with a nod, "Subtly plays no part in her method." Then she changed gears with a soft smile, "So Harry, _do _you have a girlfriend? If you did we could try and chase her off."

Harry shook his head, "I don't have time for girlfriends," he said, thinking of the comatose Voldemort and the war that awaited him back home.

Alice raised and eyebrow, "Time?" she inquired, her expression doubtful.

Lily however was nodding, "See, I've tried to tell her the same thing. My parents didn't get married until they were both into their thirties, there is plenty of time for dating and such after Hogwarts and after we figure out what we want to do with our lives."

Harry found himself looking at his mother curiously. While he didn't know much about her and his father's courtship, outside the fact that it had started in their seventh year, he could do the math and knew that he was scheduled to be born in only a few years.

"So you're planning on having kids when you're thirty?" Harry asked.

Lily shrugged, "Maybe, I mean that sort of thing can wait, you know."

Alice however was shaking her head, not believing a word her friend spoke, "There she goes trying to sound all logical and practical. Lily Evans somewhere inside you is a romantic that is just dying to get out."

Lily rolled her eyes, "You always say that."

"Because I'm you're best friend and I know you," the blonde argued. "And when you get over this little phase of yours, you and I can both get married and have kids at the same time, and our kids can be friends and we'll get together every week and have dinner and complain about how many kids we have and how messy they are, and how much we'll miss them when they go to Hogwarts."

Alice sounded a little dreamy about the fantasy she'd woven, Harry cast a glance at Frank wondering if the seventh year was a little concerned about his girlfriend's plans, but Longbottom seemed to have a sappy smile on his face as well.

He decided to look at Lily, and there he also found a somewhat thoughtful face, one which she was trying to hide, but failed.

"Doesn't that sound like a nice little life?" Alice asked the group.

Frank nodded, "But you forgot the dog."

Alice turned to him, brushing his cheeks softly, "No I didn't, a big gold retriever."

"And you forgot the successful jobs. An Auror for Frank, a Healer for you, and Charm's Creator for me. What do you want to be Harry?" Lily asked including him in their fantasy.

"Um, Professional Quidditch player," he said with a grin. It wasn't actually where he'd likely end up, the world would ask more of him, but if it were the sweet little silly world that they imagined, that would be a fun thing to do.

Lily seemed to want to say something but shrugged. "Alright, Professional Quidditch for you."

"Are you that good?" Frank asked, his face a trifle serious.

Harry smiled, "On a broom I'm unstoppable." He buffed his nails on his shirt with a playfulness that made the other's snicker.

Lily muttered something that sounded like "Not another one."

But Harry pretended not to hear, "In all seriousness, I'm a pretty good seeker."

Frank nodded with a smile. "James Potter and I are going to be captains of a match tomorrow. Probably mostly just the sixth and seventh years, people from the team...but if you're as good as you say..." Frank grinned a little devilishly, "I'll have an advantage to pick you, no one knows how good you are yet."

Harry smiled too. "Brill." Be it the future or the past, Harry Potter knew that getting on a broom and playing his favorite game could remove much of his worries and concerns.

The four chatted for a little while longer, finally Frank and Alice seem a little preoccupied with each other and they drifted away to sit by the fire while Harry and Lily played a muggle card game that both knew. Lily had even produced the muggle deck, summoning them from her dorm room.

"It's nice to have someone to play with," she confessed. "Alice is a half-blood but she was raised the wizard way, she really should take muggle studies, because honestly some of her misconceptions are atrocious. She came over to my house in the summer and I think she destroyed our toaster. She also spent a few minutes trying to talk to the people on the TV, that was funny. Of course my sister thought she was a freak and didn't want to meet her."

Harry nodded and Lily rambled away, he glanced behind her with a slight grin. A black haired boy seemed to be taking notice of their conversation.

"I tried to teach Alice Go Fish, because that is probably the easiest one to learn and she kept on wanting to know when the fish were going to appear, and then she said that the king and queen were scary because they just stared at her and didn't move, no matter how much she prodded them."

"Yeah I know," Harry said, "I taught Ron the game Hangman and at first he kept arguing that it was a gruesome game because it was about public execution, and then he was disappointed when he learned we weren't actually going to see someone suffocated. He still hasn't gotten how to use phrases."

Lily smiled, "I feel sort of sad for the wizards who don't get to learn about some of the great things muggles can do," she said.

Harry looked behind Lily once agin. James had been slowly inching forward for the last few minutes. Very obviously trying to overhear their conversation.

"I'm sure they'd like to learn," Harry suggested, knowing full well that James was within hearing distance now.

Lily shrugged, "Most purebloods just seem to assume that anything muggle is a waste of time."

Harry purposefully glanced at James with a very obvious nod. Did the boy really need a better invitation?

"That's not true," James entered the conversation, or stumbled rather, "I mean, I'm very curious about muggle culture, and muggleborns," he added a leering grin at the end of his sentence, Harry closed his eyes wearily.

"I think I'm going to bed," Lily announced.

"Wait," James said, "I really would like to learn more about muggles."

"Take muggle studies," Lily said, rising to her feet. She nodded to Harry before hurrying up the girls' staircase.

"And the Keeper Blocks Another Attempt!" Sirius called from across the room.

James sat in the chair that Lily had just left, his leg jerked out and kicked the chair across from him.

"What am I doing wrong?" he moaned.

Harry thought this was time to offer a little fatherly advice, and no he did realize how backward this situation was. But having Hermione for a friend had given him a little insight into the female psyche, and James was in desperate need of a little guidance.

"It's the way you talk to her," he advised.

"What? How do I talk to her?" James asked, he'd sat up some and was looking at Harry in a skeptical way.

Harry couldn't help the cringe, he was venturing into the disgusting, "Like you just want to shag her," he said bluntly.

"How am I supposed to talk to her?" James was honestly perplexed.

"Wow, was really hoping for a denial there," Harry said with a little jerk. He leaned back in his chair and really tried to convince himself that the sack of hormones before him wasn't his father. It would have been more convincing if they didn't look so much alike.

"No well, I _like_ her too..." James tugged at his collar as he spoke. It was obviously less embarrassing to want to shag Lily as opposed to actually liking her.

"Well then talk to her like you like her, like she's a friend, like she's Sirius."

"You want me to mock her and call her an idiot?" James scratched his head.

"No," Harry said, better take this slow. "Talk to her like she's a person and be interested in what she has to say. Try and take an interest in what she's interested in."

James was nodding, which was good because Harry didn't think he could offer any more advice. This was just wrong on many levels. He didn't want to play cupid for this parents, that just seemed to raise to many time travel questions and paradox issues. Not to mention the fact that while he wanted to be born, he didn't really want to hear a lot about the process that had achieved that goal.

James gave him an approving look, "That's pretty smooth," he said with an admiring grin. "But then I guess you have to get inventive when you look, well, like that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "We're almost identical."

James ran a hand through his hair, "You only wish," he said with a grin.

As the leader of the Marauders walked away, Harry was starting to see why Dumbledore had placed him with the Dursleys to keep his ego from being inflated by an adoring wizarding world. If his personality had been much like his father's he would need more chains than a muggle blimp to keep him tethered to reality.

It was getting late, Harry rose to his feet for a moment. The seventh year, Ethan, gestured for Harry to join in another game of cards, but Barty was among the players and Harry didn't feel up to another encounter with the future deatheater. He yawned and silently declined with a nod.

Harry crossed the room and up the stairs and into his dorm room. His lack of sleep from the other night catching up to him, he eagerly crawled into bed, pulling the covers around him and almost instantly dropping asleep.

Almost.

For a moment he found himself drifting back to the conversation earlier this evening. Alice's picture perfect word was a nice illusion. A world where he and Neville could have grown up best friends, grown up in a world where both parents were alive and sane, a world with brothers and sisters and a home with a dog. Harry knew that none of that would happen. Somewhere along the way Alice would decide to become an auror, giving up healing. Harry didn't know why she'd do that. And Lily, Lily would put her future plans aside to join her husband in working for the Order of the Phoenix. Harry knew that the Potter wealth allowed both Potters to dedicate themselves to the Light's cause. Had his mother still dreamed of one day becoming a Charms Creator?

It wouldn't matter he supposed. Alice and Frank were driven into madness. Lily and James were murdered. And because of Voldemort, that pretty little future, the one they had dreamed up tonight, none of that would ever be.

-

The room was dark, but not ill lit. Candelabras with tallow candles ringed the walls. But the room was painted black. There was little other decoration. Black walls, a simple straight backed chair and those candelabras that looked like snakes. It was perhaps what might be called a comfortable room, everything looked to be in good condition. Even the air smelled clean and fresh despite the lack of windows.

He stood with his hands resting on the backs of the chairs, his palms resting elegantly atop each other. A figure was crouched before him, on his knees his head bowed.

"The preparations are going well My Lord," the man said. "We have secured an entire squadron to be ready. As well as two of your own groups have been prepared."

"Good," he said. There was pleasure in that one statement.

The man relaxed.

"Don't be so tense, Lestrange, you have my confidence."

The man seemed to avoid a smile.

He stepped down and placed a hand on the kneeling man's shoulder. "Go now, send Mcnair in, I believe he's found something I've been looking for."

The man nodded. Rising to his feet and sweeping from the room with swift elegant movements.

In only a few moments another man joined. "Master," the man said. He would have bowed, but he was only able to manage a nod of the head, seeing as he was busy with the struggling package he brought.

"Ah, and was there much trouble?" He asked in a disinterested manner.

"Some My Lord, but I live to serve," Mcnair's voice was hoarse and wheezy, with a dismissive gesture he tossed his cargo to the floor.

"Good, leave us."

He raised his wand and stepped slowly across the room. The bundle had stopped moving, seeming to listen to his footsteps with a slight quaking. When he was near enough he waved his wand and without a sound the black cloth that covered the package's head released.

The object in question was in fact a man, he was an older man, well into his fifties and had been aging poorly. His hair was already white and he was mostly bald on top. His face was lined and his cheeks were somewhat hollow.

His eyes were of a silvery shade that was unusual, they were the sort of thing that people noticed and remembered. When he was a child, those around him had said that it meant he had the magical sight.

"Hello Max," he said to this lump of a man.

"Tom. You, I always knew." The man muttered refusing to look up.

"Yes, you had a nasty little habit of knowing," he said disdainfully.

"I knew, I saw it."

He smiled, it seemed somewhat unnatural and twisted, not how a smile should look at all. "Yes, you saw. And you said nothing. For all these years you've said nothing."

"Yes, nothing. I promise you, I've said nothing." The man was blubbering now. A mixture of relief and desperation all mixed together.

"Lies. I know you spoke with Dumbledore. How much did you say."

For the first time since he'd been released from the bag the man looked up. He looked up and what little color his face had left him. His hand came to his mouth and he looked upward with a sense of revulsion.

"What have you done, how could you have," the man stuttered in fear. His eyes taking in the scene before him as if he was witnessing something foul and mangled.

"Have you finally seen enough." The question was mocking and the man on the floor began to cry. He cried quietly, the tears dripping down his thin chin and onto his collar. There was no sound for a moment, just the hushed breathing echoing around the room.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you Tom." He was oddly calm as he said this, the trembling vanishing from his body.

"You always knew, didn't you." He raised his hand and this time he spoke the words, "_Avada Kedavra_."

The man, the package, Max, they all creased to be in that instant. Slumping to the ground those odd silver eyes lost all their light. And the sight brought such a sense of peace, such utter relief. He sat in the chair and smiled, really smiled.

-

In Scotland a boy opened his eyes and flung himself forward. He was still wrapped in his blankets, he fought against the covers pushing them onto the floor. He felt suffocated, as if the air was somehow thicker. He got to his feet, moving to the window that was beside his bed and flinging it open so that cool night air swept around him, sending goose bumps on his bare arms and chest. But it felt good and he breathed the air in hungrily.

He didn't need to see that. Why was he even seeing it? He didn't have a connection to this Voldemort. This Voldemort was a man who hadn't yet felt that icy brush of death. This was a man who hadn't heard a prophecy of his own demise, who hadn't, at seemingly random, chosen a child and decided to execute it. He should not have to see this man.

But like so many things that he shouldn't have to bear, the weight was still left on his shoulders. Where was it fair that the first time he could hear his parents voices was when he heard them being murdered? Life wasn't fair for Harry Potter, he should just accept that by now.

"You alright?" a voice posed.

Harry jerked, "Remus?" he asked.

The werewolf stood behind him slightly. "Yeah, you sounded like you were having a nightmare, muttering in your sleep. I was thinking about waking you..."

Harry ran a hand along his still prickling scar, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you..." his ministrations to his scar became nervous gesture, ruffling his hair.

"It's alright. I'm uh– a light sleeper. It seems like every time someone knocks over a pillow I wake up."

Harry knew that it was really Lupin's sensitive ears. While they might make dorm life troublesome, Harry supposed that they had come in handy while he was a professor. He couldn't recall anyone managing to successfully prank him, not even the twins.

Harry's silence had caused the young prefect to look at him closely, " Well, if you're alright."

Harry nodded, "Yeah I'm fine."

Remus returned to his bed but Harry had no intention of doing the same, instead he softly walked out the dorm room and closed the door behind him. He entered the Common Room and looked around, his eyes meeting the clock. It was only a little past one, not very late at all. Indeed, even a few students were still awake.

Harry saw a couple before the fire as well as four younger boys who were playing a wizard board game that Harry wasn't familiar with. However the candles that lit the room brightly had been doused at midnight, only the warm glow for the fireplaces remained. Harry made his way over to a dark corner and let his head lay back, closing his eyes.

He was tired, but these visions or dreams always seemed to make him not want to sleep. He supposed that wasn't an irrational reaction, after all, few people would really want to wander into the mind of a psychopath during their nightly hours.

But the dream was becoming fuzzy now, as they always did. Something was happening, and it made Voldemort happy. Not a good thing then. And then that man, what had his name been? He and Voldemort seemed to know each other, the man had even called the Dark Lord by his real name. Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly.

It was hard to pretend it didn't matter.

So what that he had watched the death of another human being, unable to stop it. He had no power over what Voldemort did. This man was dead, indeed from Harry's place in time this stranger had been dead for some time, years in fact. So it shouldn't matter.

Yes, it was hard to pretend.

-

Day: Four (Things can only get better at this point, right?)

-

"Morning, did you sleep here all night silly boy?" The voice was very loud and made him feel annoyed, although he didn't know why.

Harry tried to move but for some reason that his bed was smaller than he remembered. He felt penned in and to add to his discomfort something seemed to be brushing across his face. His eyes jerked open, and what he saw was both comforting and also a little unpleasant.

The room was comfortable, the company wasn't.

Hortense's hand was still close to his face, Harry found himself pulling back. "Uh, hello," he said for the lack of anything better to say.

Hortense smiled, "Hello, did you sleep in the Common Room?"

Harry sat up and the girl backed away slightly, she toyed with her brown curly hair and flashed a smile.

"I guess I did," Harry admitted. "I better go and uh..." Harry glanced down. He'd sort of forgotten that his only pajamas didn't come with a shirt.

Hortense had already noticed, that sort of explained the smile.

Harry got to his feet and was headed toward the staircase when the girl caught up to him, "Harry what are you doing today. Because I bet you haven't been given a proper tour of Hogwarts..."

Harry waved his hands quickly, "I'm playing Quidditch," he offered. "But thanks, I think I can find my way around the school." He nodded in her direction, fleeing the mostly empty common room with quick steps.

Hortense Muller sighed in a disappointed way. She knew she should have let him sleep a little longer.

-

Up in her dorm Lily Evans was sleeping peacefully. One of her guilty pleasures was a love of sleeping late on the weekends. Even if she didn't sleep, she often stayed abed until past ten, and would possibly have stayed even later but breakfast wasn't served after 10:30.

Lily rolled over and opened her eyes slowly. She cuddled into her blankets and pillows enjoying her first Saturday at Hogwarts. At home her mother always insisted that she be up by nine, so in some ways she always looked forward to returning to school. On the negative side, well there was James Potter, on the positive end there were lazy Saturday mornings. Life was all about balance.

"Oh Maggie, I knew it was right to get up early," a voice invaded the quiet of her dorm and Lily was seriously considering casting a silencing charm.

Maggie was a short girl with black hair that came to her chin. She was the athletic type, and a reserve chaser for the Gryffindor team, despite this she was also Hortense's friend. "What," she asked.

"You always tease me about getting up early," the girl babbled on.

"It's because you do it so that you can do your make-up and curl your hair," Maggie said tiredly.

Hortense shrugged, "But today it finally paid off. Who do you think I spied in the Common Room, and without a shirt."

"Is Mazie Renolds stripping again. I know she said that it was only because someone switched her butter beer for firewhisky but..."

"No," Hortense interrupted. "Yuck, why would I want to have to see that again, No. It was Harry Tempus." Her voice took on a dreamy tone.

That made Lily glad she hadn't cast the silencing charm. What was Harry doing half naked in the Common Room, it had better not be one of James Potter's pranks. She subtly shifted herself so that she could hear their conversation better, she could also just see them from between her partially closed curtains.

Maggie was silent for a moment, "Well, I wasn't expecting that...but oh well, good for you I suppose."

Hortense huffed, "You know you aren't being very supportive," she complained.

"Sorry," Maggie replied, "It is just hard to understand this one. I get Black, and Potter, they both are pretty powerful and come from good families, Even Parkinson wasn't a bad choice, but who is this Tempus guy anyway."

"A man with _amazing _shoulders," Hortense gushed. "And he must be powerful, if he can break the Imperius curse."

Maggie shrugged, "If you say so. But he has an attitude, he walked out of class the other day."

Hortense wasn't effected, "All the great men do. Why did he leave do you know?"

"He didn't want to read his essay aloud, about the how the Cruciatus Curse feels. I was sort of wondering if maybe it was a little too, you know, _personal_."

Lily found herself confused why was there such emphasis on the word personal.

Hortense grew quiet too, "You don't think it was cast on him, do you?"

Maggie didn't answer. "Let's go down to breakfast, I'm playing quidditch today."

"Ohhhh, that's why I really wanted to talk to you." Hortense followed her out the dorm, "You have to tell me everything about Quidditch!"

Lily felt a little grumpy as she started to sit up. The dorm was empty, normally this would be the perfect opportunity to enjoy a lazy sleepy morning. Alice was probably off with Frank. Maggie and Hortense had gone, even Morgan was no where in sight. But she couldn't seem to get comfortable. What had Hortense and Maggie been talking about. It wasn't possible that Harry had refused to discuss the Cruciatus curse because, well, because it was too _personal_.

She suddenly remembered something she had said, _" It's not like it's anything personal, not like you've been under the Cruciatus yourself, but whatever."_

She shoved her face into her pillow. Suddenly she felt really stupid. What if she'd been wrong. It seemed utterly impossible though. Why would someone her age have experienced a torture curse? Who could possibly want to hurt Harry Tempus?

Still, despite the improbability of it, she couldn't seem to get back to sleep. Lily found herself getting out of bed, and rummaging through her closet, shifting aside all the uniforms and finding some jeans and an old cream-colored jumper. The mornings were still cold at Hogwarts in September.

When she entered the Common Room she spotted Remus standing before two second years speaking seriously, she wandered towards him hoping to overhear.

"And while pranking is all well and good," he lectured, "Flooding the second year dorm room is going a little out of line. I'll have to tell Professor McGonagall about this."

Both boys looked a little pale and desperate about that. "We'll dry everything up," the one said, the other quickly nodding.

Remus seemed pensive. "If you do it together...well alright."

Both boys were relieved.

"What was that about?" Lily asked once they had headed back upstairs.

Remus heaved a sigh, "Just a little prank war emerging. Those two seem to fight more than any other people I've met, well excepting you and James, it will be punishment to have them work together, and you never know they might learn to get along some."

Lily nodded, Remus really could be sensible when he was away from his friends.

"Remus have you seen Harry Tempus?" she asked.

The prefect nodded, "He was heading to breakfast. I think he's planning on playing in Frank and James's Quidditch game. I just hope it doesn't get as out of hand as last year. They can be pretty competitive."

"We need a referee," Lily agreed.

The pair excited the Common Room and began walking to the Great Hall. It was early enough that the halls weren't very crowded, everything looked more colorful with students out of uniform, milling around in both wizarding wear and muggle clothing. Lily glanced upward at the windows they passed, it looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. The sun was streaming through the windows and only a few white clouds dotted the sky. It would be a good day for Quidditch, now why did she think that Lily wondered.

Remus nodded. "You're up early," he commented.

Lily tried to shrug that fact away, she turned to Remus a little curiously. "Remus why do you think Harry walked out of Defense yesterday?"

"I hadn't given it much thought," he replied. "Is there a reason?"

"No, I guess not. I was just something Maggie said this morning...well you don't think he could, you know, know _personally_?"

Remus's gaze became somewhat distant before turning back to Lily with a smile, without asking for her to clarify he said, "No of course not."

"Yeah, that is what I thought," Lily felt much more relieved now.

On entering the Great Hall the prefects broke apart. Remus heading to James and Sirius who were up and eating large breakfasts. Peter was also there, for the first time waking up without a struggle. Quidditch put everyone in a good mood.

Harry was sitting beside Frank and the two men seemed to be chatting happily. Alice was looking very bored and she grinned when Lily sat down.

"Good morning," the red head greeted.

Harry nodded, "Yep, excellent day for Quidditch."

Lily found herself laughing, "Isn't it odd, that is what I thought."

Alice groaned, "Not another one. Lily you don't even play Quidditch, promise me you won't be nutty about it."

Lily nodded, "You know I'm not obsessed. But I do sort of like the game. I just don't like how competitive people get about it."

"That's part of the fun," Frank argued.

"Brace yourself Longbottom!" James called loudly from down the table, "Get ready for your yearly beating," he proclaimed.

"You just be ready to for humiliation Potter!" Frank returned.

"And there is begins," Lily said with a grimace.

Frank grinned before taking a bite of his breakfast, "It's all in good fun."

-

Not long after breakfast a group of students had gathered out by the quidditch pitch. Most were Gryffindors, likely spurred on by the 'friendly' rivalry James Potter and Frank Longbottom had started up, but a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had joined as well. This game was something that James and Frank had started in James's second year. Harry listened as Remus explained it. Apparently James was a little sore that the Gryffindor Quidditch captain of the time didn't think that anyone under third year was good enough to make the team. But the rebellious second year wasn't about to let the chance to use a professional size quidditch pitch, like the one Hogwart's had, slide by. James and Frank had known each other before Hogwarts, both purebloods, both from light sided families, they had gotten together a few times to play as children. And both were very fond of Quidditch.

"At first James and Sirius wanted to start the game, but with just our year there would never be enough people for a real game. The first year we just played the second year dorm against the third years." Remus looked toward James and Frank who were heckling each other.

"Frank of course becoming the captain of the older year, and James of our year. Over the last few years more people come, different years, different houses. James and Frank are still the captains but they pick their players as opposed to just sticking with their year," Remus explained.

Harry nodded, "So the first weekend every year?" he asked.

Remus shrugged, "Not necessarily, last year Sirius managed to get detention for the first weekend, so we waited until he could play. Another year we all couldn't all meet until five or so weekends into the school year. The Quidditch teams were a little upset because they had already started practices and I guess some people broke into the broom shed." Remus smiled fondly. He turned to Harry. "You do have a broom don't you?"

Harry nodded. When he'd been packing his time travel survival trunk he'd never have forgotten to take his broom. He had been forced to make a few careful alterations, there was an illusion charm that made his firebolt look like some of the current Cleansweep models. Harry had been provided with many examples of the brooms of the period considering that their dorm room was almost carpeted with Quidditch magazines.

His broom would still move faster than the other brooms, so he'd have to be careful to match the other players as best as he could. There were some definite risks, but it was just too much temptation to avoid. A chance to play Quidditch with his Dad. Harry smiled, despite all the difficulties he'd found in this time, this sort of made up for it all.

A few students lined up on the pitch, however Harry noted that most of the crowd had moved to stands, obviously more interested in watching today's game than playing. Alice was there to cheer Frank on, Lily by her side. Remus and Peter seemed to have chosen the stands as well. There were also a few girls who seemed to be there for James and Sirius, both hams were playing up the attention well. Some younger years, including a few first year muggleborns had come, eager to see their first game of Quidditch.

However the stands soon melted into the background as the two captains took their spots in front, Frank and James stood before the others as if they were generals going into war.

"Age before Beauty," James allowed, gesturing for Frank to pick first.

The seventh year seemed to want to laugh about James's vanity but instead coughed and took on a hardened look that made some of the perspective players nervous with excitement.

"Harry Tempus," Frank said.

Harry was a little surprised, but quickly went to stand beside Frank.

James looked a little suspicious. "Just because we look alike doesn't mean he's as good as me," he said highly.

Frank played it close to his vest, "Your turn."

"Sirius," James called.

The young pureblood grinned excitedly, marching up the front and slapping his friend on the back.

"Ethan," Neville said, calling his dorm mate to the front.

"Tobias Crane," James called, bringing up a third year who was rather small.

"He plays seeker for Gryffindor," Ethan whispered.

"Maggie Windthrop," Frank called.

A girl with short black hair nodded standing next to Ethan with a familiarity. The taller seventh year smiled down at her.

"Nice to have you Maggie, I thought James would nick you, espeshally with Franklin not here." Ethan said leaning towards her.

The girl flipped her short hair, "He tends to underestimate girls," she answered.

"His loss," Ethan said winking at her.

"Thurton Campten," James called, bringing up a tall broad boy who Ethan informed Harry was a beater for Hufflepuff.

"Morgan Windthrop," Frank called. Harry noticed another girl come forward, she was very similar to the previous, the same short black hair and slight but athletic build.

"Are you twins?" Harry asked them.

Maggie looked at him in an evaluating way that was a little unnerving, "Fraternal, not identical," she stated.

Morgan seemed to be the quieter of the two and only nodded.

"Sam Davis," James called, bringing another boy with a sandy colored hair.

"Gryffindor Chaser," Ethan added.

"And slow at turns," Maggie added. "James and Franklin Bennett are the other Gryffindor Chaser, I play reserve," she included for Harry's benefit.

"Do most of the team come to play at this game?" Harry wondered allowed.

"Mostly, but then it is Quidditch, I think most of us would play regardless of who started the game," Maggie said with an excited grin stealing over her rather composed face.

Harry nodded.

"Hecktor and Fort didn't show," Ethan said looking around.

"They're probably in the hospital wing," Morgan mentioned softly.

"Why is that?" Ethan questioned.

"Um...I heard that they were arguing in potions again," Morgan turned to sister as she spoke.

Ethan winced, "How bad was the explosion, I didn't feel the ground shaking."

"Those idiots," Maggie decided, "They work great when they are on the pitch but the rest of the time they seem ready to kill each other. Remember the fight they had in the Great Hall?"

Ethan smiled, "That was great."

"You didn't wind up with custard in your hair," Maggie argued with a sour expression.

Ethan looked pensive, "Actually I think I did."

"Mack ," Frank called.

The red head from the game of Exploding Snap approached. "Bout time," he said joining beside Ethan.

"Sorry mate," Frank said, "Had to get the best pair of chasers while I could."

The Windthrop sisters reacted to the comment, Maggie smiling and Morgan blushing.

"Frank plays keeper so we only need another Chaser," Mack said looking at the people who were left.

"Thomas O'Niel," James called.

Thomas was a wiry boy with black hair, he joined his place beside the others.

"Ravenclaw Chaser," Maggie informed. "And good." She looked thoughtful for a moment, "Frank," Maggie moved to the captain and whispered something in his ear.

Frank nodded, "Chris Fletcher," A smaller boy, probably a fourth year moved to their side.

"Smart choice," Mack commented. "Ravenclaw chaser, if anyone can predict O'Niel's movements it would be his teammate."

"And vice a versa," Harry added.

"There is that," Maggie agreed. "But he's a good chaser too. Scored quite bit last year for only starting in the middle of the season after Frobisher was injured."

"Thanks, you're not bad yourself," Chris said, winking at Maggie as he spoke.

Maggie smiled and looked him square in the eye, "Not intimidated by a woman that plays quidditch?" she asked the younger and shorter boy. Morgan nudged her sister.

Chris smiled, "A beautiful girl who is awesome at Quidditch. Marry me," he teased.

Maggie laughed, "I knew you were the right choice." she swung an arm around his shoulder and laughed while her sister seemed too flustered to comment

James meanwhile had examined the rest carefully, "Damien Forester," he called.

And so the Teams were divided. Those who hadn't been picked for a team moaned in compliant, but most weren't too surprised. It was a given that the players for the House teams would be given first pick. Perhaps the only real surprise had been Frank's choice of Harry Tempus.

Frank gathered his team in a circle. "Ethan and Mack are our beaters, Maggie, Morgan and Chris can handle the quaffle, I'll protect our goal and Harry it's up to you to catch the snitch. But let's just have fun and beat James Potter's ego back to a reasonable size.

Everyone grinned at the comment.

"And Harry," Frank pulled the younger man aside for a moment, "Watch Thurton and Sirius, they can get a little reckless when they play beater. The last time we played my seeker broke his arm. It's just supposed to be a fun rivalry but sometimes I think it takes on a life of its own."

Harry could tell that the seventh year was still feeling guilty about his last seeker, "Don't worry on a broom I'm pretty uncatchable."

Frank nodded.

The two teams took to the air and Harry reveled in the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair, enjoying the weightless feeling that seemed to happened whenever he took off and soared high above the pitch. Soared a little to fast actually, Harry looked around but no one seemed to have noticed. Everyone was waiting for the toss up. Harry looked below and watched the other players moving around.

He knew that their brooms had to move at about half the speed that his could. He just hoped he remembered that when it came time to chase the snitch.

A figure flew up beside him, it was the young seeker Tobias Crane. Harry nodded at him pleasantly, Crane responding with a midair somersault and a raised eyebrow. Harry grinned, he'd played seeker enough to know that half the game was mental. If you could intimidate your opponent then you stood a better chance of winning. But it took more than some impressive ariel displays to intimidate him. Harry merely gazed steadily at the younger seeker, then looked down when he heard a whistle.

The quaffle was up and James Potter had immediately taken control. Not for nothing was he considered the King of Quidditch. Harry found himself a little mesmerized by the sight of his father playing. Sirius had told him that he'd inherited his Father's talent with a broom, and it was true. Harry could tell that James felt comfortable on a broom. Even from here he could see that much of his father's posturing was cast aside when he was flying, like Harry he seemed to leave his troubles on the ground.

But Harry thought that his Father's flaying and his own were different too. Maybe it was just because James was a Chaser, and Harry a seeker. Tactics had to be different after all. James flew with a quick sort of confidence, moving agilely through the other players, he seemed to have no knowledge of potential danger. Harry hovered high above everything, his body alert, ready for anything. Maybe it was because James Potter hadn't dodged rogue bludgers seeking to injure him, or fought jinxed bucking broomsticks, or had a squad of dementors enter the pitch. Quidditch was wonderful, Harry loved everything about it. But like with everything else in his life, he'd learned to take the good with the bad.

A flicker of gold caught his attention and Harry moved towards where Frank was guarding the hoops. But it turned out to be the sheen from a copper hair clip that Morgan was wearing.

Maggie seemed to have taken the quaffle and both her and her sister moved rapidly, passing between each other so smoothly that it seemed the twins could read each others minds. The reached the hoops and Maggie threw the ball, but it was quickly blocked by the keeper Damien Forester. He had caught the ball squarely in his palms and tossed it to James as the chaser flew by.

A bludger came Harry's way and he was forced to roll.

Ethan hurried over, " How you doing?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"Just be careful alright," Ethan encouraged. "And don't catch the snitch too soon, want to play this game for a bit."

But there was no chance of ending the game too soon, the snitch seemed egar to be outside and play and was making no effort to be found.

Both Harry and Tobias were getting a little board. At one point Harry had bulleted through the other team's defenses giving Maggie a path to score. It was a maneuver that he had used from time to the time on his team at home. It was just natural for people to move out of the way of a fast moving object. Not that he was going that fast, Harry really wanted to have the chance to let his firebolt out, but he knew that he had to keep up appearances.

James's team was dominating the scoreboard. James and Sam Davis were both Chasers on the Gryffindor team, together they could implement some snazzy tactics to score. Maggie and Morgan worked amazingly well together, but Morgan wasn't as confidant as her sister and didn't play on the house team so she was a little rusty skill wise. The two Ravenclaw chasers seemed pretty busy just competing against each other. Harry didn't know but he thought there might be some disagreement between the two, or at least it looked that way judging by their fierce attitudes.

Harry was drifting by James's hoops when he once again caught a gold shine. He moved his head slowly, keeping the shin within his eye line but not moving his head too obviously. Crane had been marking him closely for much of the game. Not too near, Sirius and Thurton did seem to go out of their way to target him, Crane couldn't get too close or risk being hit by his own beaters.

There was the shine again, now he could tell it was the snitch, it almost looked like it was floating harmlessly on the breeze near Frank's goal.

Harry turned an eye on Crane. The younger boy hadn't spotted it yet. He was also a little closer.

Harry slowly moved towards Frank's end of the pitch. He was even with Crane when the other seeker spotted it. Harry had been keeping one eye on him, the other on the snitch, the seeker's expression had given it all away.

Harry flattened himself on his broom, he moved quickly toward the snitch. Crane soon matched him, both seekers shoulder to shoulder. Crane used his upward angle to bash into Harry. It really wasn't the best move. While not much larger, Harry did have at least five inches and ten pounds on Crane. He absorbed the blow, knocking his own shoulder into the other seeker.

Crane was pushed off course a bit, but managed to catch up, however his attempt to check Harry had lost him a few inches. He lowered his face on his broom trying to catch up on his speed.

Both Seekers were nearing the snitch when suddenly the small ball seemed to discover that it had been sighted. The winged ball dropped lower and sped towards James's goals. Harry tucked into a Quidditch move known as a tight roll, it allowed the seeker to change direction at an almost ninety degree angle. His speed didn't change much and he was soon diving lower, moving jerkily to keep with the flying ball's movement.

He was soon almost within reaching distance, his arm was out and ready to grab. But the snitch changed direction again, stopping almost dead and dropping lower. There was only one thing for it, Harry stopped abruptly as well, dropping to the side and allowing his knees to wrap around the handle he swung upside down, snatching the snitch from where it fluttered just above the grass.

As Harry pulled himself back up, he became aware that there had been a crowd watching. He'd forgotten about the students that had gathered to watch the game, it was only now that he considered them. Their cheers filled air, for the distance he thought he could see his mother, her face excited and happy, jumping up and down and she cheered his name. Yeah, this trip was all worth while.

Soon however that noise was drowned out when the other members of Harry's team collided on him. Frank was thumping his back, probably harder than was necessary. Ethan was flying around in circles cheering at the top of his lungs. Chris Flecher seemed to enjoy gloating a bit in front of his fellow Ravenclaw, and the Windthrope sisters hugged each other and flew around the pitch. Maggie soon flew down to Harry, tugging on his arm to lead him on a triumphant circle of the pitch. Chris, Ethan and Morgan soon joined in, everyone circling high above the pitch cheering their win.

Once Frank had finished congratulating Harry, the seventh year moved on to James Potter. Despite the age difference, James had won three out of the four matches, and the older Frank had been hungry for another win.

James didn't wear defeat well. He still couldn't believe what had happened. They had been leading by a hundred points, victory had seemed so sure. He listened to Frank's crowing with as much dignity as he could muster, finally shaking the other captian's hand before flying to the ground.

The rest of his team was also grumpy. Thurton still had one bludger handy, he tossed it in the air and swung with his bat aimlessly, "Dammit," he cursed sullenly.

Despite his low spirits, the bat hit true, sending the metal ball in a high arch across the pitch, flying directly towards the celebrating team.

Harry was still being patted on the bat when he heard the whistling. He noticed it in a vague way, not quite understanding why the noise seemed to fill him with a trace of worry.

"We did it!" Mack shouted. "Merlin I'm glad," the red head cheered.

WHACK

"AHHH," from somewhat behind him the noise rang through the air. Everyone turned in a stunned manner to see Morgan, she had been flung off her broom and was plummeting to the ground. Her dark hair swirled around her panicked face.

Most stood for a moment too surprised to do anything.

Harry's reflexes were spot on. Without a thought Harry kicked his broom to the highest speed he could manage, trying to fly faster than Morgan was falling. The wind whipped past his face forcing his eyes into slits, while his mind tried to do the math. They had been at least fifty feet up when she'd fallen. If he pushed just a little harder, just a little harder...

Harry managed to sweep under Morgan, her body landing hard against his chest and sliding down until she straddled his legs at an odd angle. Her hands had wrapped around his head, clinging onto him for dear life.

"You're okay," Harry muttered, trying to speak between her hands.

Morgan seemed to notice this, she lowered her hands a bit, wrapping them around his shoulder as he lowered them slowly to the ground.

When they finally touched down Morgan burst into tears, somehow being safe allowed all the emotion to hit her.

Maggie wasn't far behind. The normally confidant sister was shaking, her eyes rimming with tears.

"Morrie," she said, wrapping her arms around her sister as much as she could.

Morgan was still clutching Harry's arm, her other arm cradled her abdomen. Maggie still managed to wrap around her sister.

"Mag," Morgan said hoarsely.

"It's okay." She looked up at Harry, "You saved her."

The other members of their team had also joined now. Everyone looked a little pale.

Thurton ran over as well, he'd gotten off his broom and had only just noticed what had happened.

"Hey you okay?" he asked nervously.

Ethan jumped off his own broom still three feet off the ground, "What was that?" he demanded.

"I didn't– " He was silenced when Maggie broke away from her sister and slugged the taller seventh year in the mouth. Considering Thurton was a good foot taller than her and nearly twice as broad, she must have put her full fist into it as he staggered back.

"It's just a game!" she shouted.

"You have fun knocking little girls off their brooms," Mack said standing beside Maggie, looking like he was ready to take his own swing. Seeing as Mack and Thurton were about the same size, that might be a different sort of fight.

"The game was over," Chris said his face red and furious.

Sirius, James and Frank were running across the pitch, trying to figure out what had happened.

"What's going on," James asked as he approached.

"He tossed a Bludger at her," Ethan explained, pointing to Morgan who was still clutching onto Harry and her stomach. Tears still ran down her eyes but she was silent now, although she did look a bit green.

James turned to Thurton with an angry look as well, "Is that what happened?"

"No," Thurton quickly argued through his already bloody lip.

"Why you bastard," Ethan said chocking his fist.

Frank darted in between holding his friend back.

"I hit a bludger, but I was wasn't aiming at anyone," the seventh year Hufflepuff said quickly. "Is she alright?" his concern was obvious.

"Thanks to Harry," Morgan said tightly, her voice still sounding upset.

"You caught her from only fifty feet," Mack said. He seemed to have only just realized this and was looking at Harry in awe and shock. "How'd you do that, you both should be splattered into the pitch."

"I just did," Harry said.

Morgan look up at him, "Thank you," she said softly, still not letting go of his arm.

A new group was approaching, Alice and Lily from up in the stands had darted across the field and were soon standing beside the two sisters.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked.

"I think she needs a healer," Harry said, noticing the way that Morgan still clutched at her ribs.

Alice nodded, she quickly conjured and stretcher and Morgan was floated off the field. Maggie walked beside her, holding her sister's hand. Lily ran up ahead, no doubt to make sure that Madam Pomfrey would be ready for the injured Quidditch player.

The rest were left behind, the happiness from a moment ago washed away. Harry stood awkwardly before deciding to follow the girls up the school. He didn't need to turn around to know that the others were watching him as he walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Making Time For Friends

Day: Four

-

Harry considered going into the Hospital Wing, but it wasn't where he wanted to be. He was sure that Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix Morgan up with no problem and the girl had her sister and dorm mates beside her.

Instead he found himself leaning against the wall outside. The halls were quiet, it was a beautiful day and most students were outside. Or maybe they were eating lunch, Harry wasn't certain what time it was. Quidditch had a way of dulling your sense of time.

"You're an amazing flyer," a girl said, sidling up beside him.

Harry turned to look over, Hortense had joined him leaning against the wall. "Thanks," he answered simply.

She turned a bit, leaning on her shoulder so that she could look at him, "Maybe you have a future in professional Quidditch," she suggested.

Harry shook his head, "There are other things I have to do."

She nodded, "I can't believe you saved her," she said with a bit of wonder in her tone.

It was odd but Harry didn't feel that uncomfortable around Hortense just now. He had a phobia about fan girls, and she certainly fit the description, but maybe it was everything else that was happening around him that made him worry less.

"Harry would you go to Hogsmede with me," the girl suddenly said.

Harry turned, "What?"

Hortense took a breath, "Next weekend is a Hogsmeade trip...Would you maybe want to go with me."

Harry paused and looked at her, the girl shifted nervously under his gaze, "Look Hortense," Harry said kindly, "You seem nice and all..."

Hortense slipped against the wall, "But," she asked with a downhearted expression.

"I'm just not looking for a relationship, the timing isn't right." About twenty years off truth be told, Harry thought.

"Oh," Hortense said thoughtfully. "Will the timing be better in a few months? We have another weekend in December, before we leave for break."

She was relentless. "Um, we'll see," he said quickly.

Hortense nodded, "Alright," she walked into the Hospital Wing with a little extra sway of her hips. It might have been more alluring had Harry not been certain that she was probably the mother of someone he knew. He was starting to think that there was something familiar about her face, but he couldn't place it.

Harry looked towards the Hospital Wing, but he didn't feel like he belonged in there either. He nodded towards it before turning on his heel. For a moment he just allowed his feet to move without any plan or reason. But he wasn't surprised when he found himself at one of his favorite spots. The covered bridge that overlooked the lake was a sort of hideaway for him. Ron and Hermione knew it was one of his places and would come here and drag him away after a little while, but they wouldn't be doing that this time. Leaning against the old wood he continued to gaze out as the sun began to lower in the sky.

-

Harry wasn't certain what time it was, but he was starting to get hungry and so he decided to head to the Great Hall. His stomach proved to be a good clock, when he entered the food had just appeared on the table and people were tucking in. Most had spent the day outside, enjoying the good weather before the fall and winter came and took away the sunshine. Thus, with everyone having good appetites, a great deal of movement and chatter erupted when the food appeared.

Harry found himself having trouble finding a seat, the benches were crowded tonight. But he managed to find an empty space around people he didn't really know. Which was oddly a little bit of relief. He'd come to a decision about why people like Hortense didn't bother him. In the end, they didn't really mean anything. After he left this place he would have no connection with them, while being with his parents brought up a bunch of issues that sane people left alone.

"What you sitting down here for," someone asked, budging people over to sit next to him.

Harry looked over, James Potter in the flesh. Now what had he just said about sane people? "Just finding a spot," Harry said dismissively, noticing that James seemed to have settled in for the meal.

"So you're a pretty good flyer," James remarked cooly.

Harry shrugged, "Yeah," he helped himself to some pudding, reaching across to also grab some vegetables, proof that he wasn't only eating sweets.

James coughed, he seemed to have been waiting for a different reaction, "Okay can't hide it from you, you're a great flyer, amazing. That roll and flip catching the snitch, not to mention the dive you made to get Morgan."

Harry shrugged again, his shoulders were getting tired of this, "Yeah I really like Quidditch." He thought they had covered this on the first day.

"Yeah, I mean everybody likes Quidditch, but not everyone can be good at it. What would you think about going out for the House Team?" James asked, he leaned towards Harry as he gnawed on a roll.

"I thought you already had Crane as a Seeker," Harry said, remembering the dark haired boy he'd played against in the game today.

James waved the issue away, "He's a fourth year, He can always play after you leave. And you beat him to the snitch. And that wasn't a lucky catch, you've got some impressive skills. Have you played on a team before?"

It would have been tempting to say that he had made his House Team in his first year, the youngest player in a century. It would have been great to say that the only time he had failed to catch the snitch had been when a squadron of Dementors had entered the pitch. It would be nice to say that he had followed in his father's footsteps and become Quidditch captain.

Those were the things he'd love to share with his father. If only to see the man's reaction. He knew he'd be proud, but it was one thing to know it, and another thing to see it on his face.

"No, they didn't have Quidditch at Spellwicks," he said, looking away as he spoke.

"You must be one hell of a natural," James said with a whistle. "But that is no problem. I'm Quidditch Captain this year, so I don't really care about past experience, not when you've got talent."

Harry nodded, "I'll think about, but it sounds good. When do practices start?"

"In a few weeks," James didn't seem too concerned about it.

Harry knew he'd probably be gone by then, the forgetting potion being brewed would make him a distant memory to those present. He smiled, it would probably be a relief for Crane, no newcomer usurping his position.

"Okay," he agreed.

"Excellent, we'll be unstoppable for the cup this year. We've won it the last two, but Ravenclaw has a really good team this year. You saw O'Neil and Fletcher, the two Ravenclaw chasers at the game, imagine them working together. And their seeker is no slouch. Last year I think he caught every snitch, we only won because we'd run up the score past 150...but with good chasers..."

James was really into Quidditch, Harry found he liked him this way. When James was alone, and not worried about impressing Lily, he could be an alright bloke.

James stayed and chatted with him through dinner, and when he left, Harry had a feeling that he was starting to know him better. His father was still immature, still a little foolish, but there were traces of the brave man he would become.

-

Day: Five

-

Sunday came and went in a peaceful manner. Harry was starting to think that maybe Sunday should be his new Tuesday. Obviously, considering this whole time travel incident, Tuesdays weren't as uneventful as he may like. Thursdays were holding true, being just as disastrous as they could be. But perhaps Sundays weren't bad. This one certainly wasn't.

Harry enjoyed spending most of his time in the Gryffindor Common Room or the Hogwarts grounds. While not an unknown entity, he was by no means as famous in this time as he was at home. In his time he'd gotten used to the idea that complete stranger seemed to get some joy out of staring at him. It was sort of something he had to deal with at the start of every school year. For the new first years, who had gone to sleep hearing the story of Harry Potter, he seemed a legend made real, sprung to life from their parents' stories.

But here he was just the new kid Harry Tempus. Certainly the new kid who could break the Imperius Curse and who could battle a fully grown Acromantula. How had that story gotten out of hand? But he was still just a normal student.

So as a normal student, Harry spent his normal Sunday walking around the lake and napping under some willow trees. After that short excursion he lost a game of chess to Remus, fought off Lily's attempts for him to do his homework, and chatted seeker strategy with Tobias Crane, who turned out to not be such a bad guy. In other words it was the best day he'd had in a long time. Yep, Sundays were really starting to grow on him.

Perhaps he should have known that it would come to an end when he went to his bed that night and found a hastily scrawled note lying on his pillow.

Another lesson. Tomorrow after dinner.

Sirius.

-

Day: Six (How many more days can this thing last? Really?)

-

Monday was met by much grumbling, as all Mondays are. Harry still wasn't sleeping as restfully as he should, but he hadn't had any more disturbing visions since the one that awoken him, so he was quite content. The young time traveler seemed to be a continuing source of pride for Remus, considering he was the only dorm mate that the prefect didn't have to wake from a comatose state. Harry waved at him cheerily, heading for the Great Hall, as Remus once again prodded James with his pillow.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Harry was soon greeted by Frank Longbottom, who was also awake, despite the tired look in his eyes. Neville's Dad also drank copious amounts of tea while scratching out a few more sentences for a Defense essay that was due today.

"What does Barten have you writing on?" Harry questioned. He leaned over to try and read but Frank's handwriting was more eligible than Ron's.

"Dark Wizards," Frank said. "I was hoping to draw Grindlewald, something semi recent, ended up with Endend the Strange. As far as evil dark lords go...not the most interesting bloke."

"Yeah," Harry asked. He really hadn't focused on the dead dark wizards, the live ones were giving him enough trouble. "What did he do?"

"Tried to take over the world, or at the very least Surrey," Frank answered.

"He was willing to settle for Surrey?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess so," Frank said shrugging. "Aside from that he had all the other dark lord qualifications, minions, lots of destruction, started the Great Fire in London 1666, though there is some dispute that he didn't set it so much as knocked over a candelabra, anyway, Parselmouth– "

Harry choked.

"You alright?" Frank leaned over.

"Yeah just a little, er, juice got caught in my throat. But, what does being a parselmouth have to being a dark lord."

Frank looked pensive, "Don't know, just seems a few of them were. Slytherin, Endend here, and You-know-who as well."

"Yeah but there must have been more paselmouths than just those three. I mean isn't including parselmouth on the list the same as saying that they all had brown hair, and thus brown haired people are evil?" Harry knew the argument was purely self-defensive, if he weren't a parselmouth he probably wouldn't give a hang about how everyone thought they were evil. He might even jump on the bandwagon considering his own altercations with the poster boy of the snake tongued.

Frank seemed thoughtful, "That's a good point," he grinned wolfishly, "I think I'll add that to my essay. Should give me enough to finish this off, thanks."

Harry nodded.

"But I'd be careful, only the dark families seem to like parselmouth, it's a mark of pride to some of the pureblood nutters."

"Really?" Harry asked.

Frank nodded, "You may be right, it may be just a skill, but the old families are really happy if one of their children is one. Of course no one has been in...don't know how long."

"What are you talking about," Lily asked. She and Alice and joined them, both girls quickly looking over the food and piling some on their plates.

"Parselmouths," Frank answered before Harry could steer the conversation elsewhere.

"What's that?" Lily asked. She chewed on a piece of toast as she spoke, she turned to Alice but the other girl seemed just as puzzled.

"It's someone who can talk to snakes," Harry answered simply.

Lily tilted her head, "I didn't know wizards could speak to animals. Is it like a language you can learn?"

Harry shook his head, pulling some of the eggs onto his plate, "No it's a skill that you're usually born with. And parselmouths don't even really notice. It's like you see and snake and the snake is speaking English as far as you're concerned."

Lily hummed, "That sounds great, can other people speak to other animals?"

"Not that I know of," Harry answered.

Frank nodded toward Harry, "But we were talking about how most people think that it is a sign of darkness."

"That's stupid," Lily said. "If you're born with it, that makes it sound like people can be born bad, I don't believe that."

"I don't know," Alice said, "I mean it can't all be based on what happened to you. Look at some of the people who came from good homes and families and did terrible things. My grandmother told me that Grindlewald's family was a good one but he went bad anyway."

"But because of choices he made," Lily pressed on. "He choose to get into dark magic– "

"Exactly," Alice argued, "Why would he choose to become a dark lord if it wasn't already in him to begin with."

Lily huffed, "Well it just sounds stupid to me to think someone is bad just because of a skill they have."

Harry couldn't hide the small grin that lit his features. He quickly tried to pull himself together, "So what classes do we have today?"

"Transfiguration and Herbology for you," Lily answered.

"I'm looking forward to Herbology," Harry said with a grin.

Alice snickered.

Lily seemed somewhat affronted, "Professor Pod really is a very intelligent wizard," she argued.

Harry nodded, "I'm sure."

"He is," she added.

"I agree," Harry said with a grin. He took another bite of some toast while she looked at him through suspicious slitted eyes.

"Did you do the Transfiguration homework," Lily asked.

"What homework," Harry asked, he turned to Frank, "Do you know about any homework."

The seventh year only cocked an eyebrow.

"Why are you being sarcastic today," Lily asked, she spread some strawberry jelly on her own toast.

"Seemed a good day for it," Harry thought reflectively. He'd been doing the math and he couldn't possibly be here much longer. All he had to do was avoid trouble and everything would work out fine. Right?

Harry stared into space for a moment. He had to admit that this was getting somewhat easier. Only a few days ago it seemed as if every sight of his parents sent his heart beating faster. He had been worried that he'd inadvertently say something to excite suspicion. But now he was becoming more comfortable. Lily was a friend, not his mother. James also seemed more like a dorm mate than the teenage version of his father.

A bell rang.

"Let's get to class," Lily said rising to her feet. Harry nodded. Alice kissed Frank before both headed to their own classes, Divination for Alice, Defense for Frank.

When the pair were exiting, they were quickly joined by two others. "Morning Lily," James greeted, falling into step beside her.

Lily suppressed a groan, "Morning."

"Looking forward to Transfiguration?" he asked.

"I suppose so, human transfiguration might be useful."

"What did you think of how the text described it, I thought it seemed more confusing than it is," James pressed on.

"Well, I suppose you're right. When it mentioned the focal factor I was kind of confused, I had to look it up somewhere else." Lily seemed to be checking her bag for her books, forgetting exactly who she was speaking to.

Harry shared a glance with Remus, what exactly was happening? He'd never witnessed James and Lily share more than one sentence before the conversation devolved into an argument.

"My Mom loves Transfiguration so I have some of her texts," James replied, "One is all about focal importance and how to improve," James mentioned.

Lily seemed to pause slightly, "Really, you think maybe I can barrow it. I found one in the library but it must have weighed twenty pounds, and it was middle English I believe."

James nodded, a slight smile on his face, "Yeah sure, Remind me when we're in the Common Room and I'll get it for you."

Lily found herself in an unusual position, "Thanks."

"No problem."

They had reached the Transfiguration classroom, before entering James turned back and gave Harry a smirk and wink.

"It seems he is taking your advice to heart," Remus added.

Harry wasn't exactly certain how he felt about this, he decided the best thing to do was ignore it. He distracted himself by finding a seat and paging through the reading he was supposed to have done the other night. Once again the few months he was ahead of his classmates gave him the advantage. He was fairly familiar with the concepts.

Surprisingly enough James had managed to snag a seat just behind and to the right of Lily. This was quite the achievement considering that in the past Lily had stated that a two-row-thick bubble was required between her and James. Sirius didn't seem very impressed by his friend's progress and stared out the window in a bored way. The young pureblood's mind was focused on something else. Harry wondered if he was thinking about the Imperius lesson that was coming this night after dinner. Their last lesson hadn't shown much progress.

Harry found his mind drifting to thoughts of Sirius more and more as the lesson continued. Mcgonagall was lecturing on human object transfiguration, this included transfiguring whole people into objects and transfiguring parts into objects. Once again the strict professor was focusing on the dangers involved, and such repetition made it easy for his mind to wander.

Why did Sirius need to learn to beat and unforgivable? It was a question that nagged at him no matter how much he tried to put it at rest. He was confidant that teaching Sirius would only be good, as beneath the troublesome prankster lay the heart of a good man. But he still found himself curious. And, why would Sirius have a desire to keep this information hidden from James and Remus? Surely those two could also be in need of such lessons. Whatever the reason, it must have been desperate, Sirius wasn't fond of Harry, to actually ask him for help implied a dire need.

"Could you please demonstrate, Mr. Tempus," Mcgonagall asked, easily piking out the most distracted student and calling on him.

"Er...excuse me professor?" Harry asked.

Mcgonagall drummed her fingers across her arms in an annoyed fashion, "Please demonstrate the spell on page 215, regarding changing the structure of the arm."

Harry nodded, he recalled that spell. "_Armenous Tranfigato_," he said. He smiled when his flesh stretched and flexed, changing texture and shape, leaving him with an arm that greatly resembled a Beater's Bat.

"That's handy," James said with a grin. He nudged Sirius, "You think someone would be better at playing beater if their hand..."

Up in the front Mcgongall looked like she had swallowed a lemon, "Um, very good Mr. Tempus. Five points to Gryffindor, Now class as you can see the pronunciation and wave movements are very precise, but what is even more important in the focus of mind– "

Harry once again fell into a daze.

It was double Transfiguration and soon the class was broken up and told to work on the spell. Harry had already achieved it so he spent most of class period either staring blankly at his desk or assisting people who asked him. Sirius and James, once again, had no difficulty, Remus and Lily however were a little frustrated.

Despite most of the class's difficulty Mcgongall still seemed very impressed by the successes the class had seen. She was smiling fondly at the class as they left, Harry in particular. The students were also pretty happy, considering she had only assigned homework for those who hadn't achieved the spell, and that had only been to practice.

"Harry you're very good at Transfiguration," Lily said falling into step beside him.

Harry felt a little uncomfortable with taking the credit, his real first attempt hadn't been very impressive, he'd simply already been taught this spell, "Uh, thanks, but it really isn't my best subject," he said looking straight-ahead.

"You have to work on your sense of self worth," James encouraged. He joined the conversation with a bit more confidence himself, feeling slightly rewarded when Lily didn't frown in his direction.

"Herbology later right?," Harry asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Yes," Lily agreed.

"I'm glad I dropped that class," James added. He was surprisingly good at jumping into conversations.

"Why is that," Lily asked archly.

James swallowed, "Because it wasn't my best subject," he said cautiously.

This new James really seemed to be throwing Lily off, "Oh," she was left to say blankly, "Let's get to class Harry," she said rushing forward.

"We have lunch," the time traveler stated.

"Oh...lunch."

Lunch was a rather calm affair, which surprised everyone considering that Lily Evans and James Potter were within hearing distance of the other. Both were still surrounded why their own cadre of friends, but they were still closer then they had ever sat. And to the shock of everyone there wasn't a fight. James seemed content to act largely as if Lily wasn't there, only speaking out to her on issues of homework or interesting books.

Lily seemed very confused about the entire thing, but managed to ignore it as well. She ate her lunch, chatted with Alice. When it was time for her to leave for Herbology, she rose to her feet, Harry, and Alice following her.

As she passed him by James called, "Bye, have a nice class."

Lily stopped, "Bye," she responded dumbly. Not really knowing what else to do.

James gave Harry a wink and a smile as he passed, which Harry wasn't certain how to feel about. He supposed it would be better if his parents got along...but this was too strange. He wanted a nice normal family, he didn't want to be the secret driving force that had gotten his parents together. It was paradoxical and unhealthy. He'd give anything to know that his conception had been the result of one too many firewhiskey. At least that would be normal.

As soon as the redhead left, Harry noticed James turn and begin speaking very animatedly to a rather bored Sirius. Remus gave his friend a nod before following after Harry and Lily.

The young werewolf caught up, "Have we gotten around to any assignments yet in Herbology," he tried to remember.

Lily looked pensive, "I don't think so."

"No one found the list," Harry added.

"Ah yes," Remus nodded.

The greenhouse was rather full of students when the three gryffindors arrived. Alice, who had hurried on ahead, was chatting with someone from Hufflepuff, a girl with brown hair who seemed rather excited about something.

"What's going on," Lily asked once they were close enough.

"Apparently Professor Pod is arranging a field trip for later in the year," Alice answered.

The Hufflepuff girl seemed rather disappointed at the lack of energy, "Not just any trip," she said, "We're going to magical plant and creature preserve on the Isle of Man."

"Are you certain it is a safe idea to travel with Professor Pod," Harry asked.

The girl blinked, "Why ever not?" she asked.

"Never mind," Harry muttered.

It was at that moment that the professor in question entered, his arms full of two rather lurid purple flowers who seemed to talking to each other.

"A ugly bugger of a human you see has six children, them are like seedlings" one the plants said to the other with a deep voice, "And he figures he's got the brightest petals in the row, so he calls his wife "Mother of Six" And she doesn't like it,"

"What's with the human jokes," the other flower complained in a squeaky voice.

"I'm getting to the funny bit," the other flowered complained.

"This is a excellent one," Professor Pod added, nodding his head as he spoke.

"At least someone appreciates me," the flower said.

"Don't get your leaves in a twist," the other squeaked.

"Well one night they go to a party. The male got bored and he wants to know if the female wants to go home."

"How do you tell the males and females apart again," the flower squeaked.

The other flower seemed determined to reach the punch line, "So he shouts at the top of his voice, "Shall we go home, Mother of Six?"" the flower paused for a moment, "And she calls back "Anytime you're ready, Father of Four." You get it?"

Professor Pod chuckled appropriately.

The other flower swayed slightly, "No."

"Not all the seedlings were pollinated by the same bee, understand."

"What is unusual about that?"

"You're hopeless," the one flower decreed.

"I think I'll set you apart for a little bit," Professor Pod decided. He put one of the flower pots beside something that resembled a small palm tree and the other was placed on an overturned bucket. The one on the bucket began to sing,

"There once was a girl from Nantucket

Who crossed the sea in a bucket,

And when she got there

They asked for a fare

So she pulled up her dress and said– "

"Silencio," Professor Pod cast. He smiled warmly at the class, most of whom were snickering as they had managed to complete the rhyme on their own.

"Hello class, All here, excellent, I've taken a pair of Chatty Chrysanthemums from a friend of mine, aren't they lovely." He pointed at the pair of purple flowers, "Unfortunately they've spent too much time exposed to...television." Professor Pod clicked his tongue sadly.

Some of the class looked concerned about the pronouncement but the muggleborns smiled.

"I'm hoping to adapt them back to a more natural environment, normally they sing such," he looked sadly at the one plant, "Such lovely songs...oh well. I happened to find my list the other day when I was repotting the sniggerits, excellent, so we can all choose our projects today."

This was met with much muttering. Ah, the mythical list, spoken of but never seen. Most of the students were happy to once again achieve some focus in the lesson, but there were a few rather disappointed. Their previous class, while pointless, had been somewhat fun. Harry, since he would be leaving in a week or so and abandoning any project he was given, didn't really care. Instead he wondered how long the silencing charm would last on the profane pansy, or whatever it was called, he'd rather enjoyed the joke.

The list was placed on a table that was probably used for potting, there was much dirt on both table and list. However Pod had managed to find a rather cheerful looking inkwell and a poisonous looking green quill.

The eager students quickly hurried to the table, scanning the list and writing their names next to plant they desired to tend during this year of Herbology. Harry wasn't egar and found himself drifting behind the others, indeed finding the last place in line. Lily had, of course, been one of the first to snag a plant. She had chosen something called a Lacy Feral Fern. She had spent the last few moments with Harry, speculating what it would look like.

Once Harry finally reached the list, there wasn't much to pick from. Killing Poisonous Ivy was still an option, but Harry was of a mind that perhaps that was one plant that deserved to go extinct. Flopping Floraids, were also an option, but Harry envisioned some sort of flapping flower that couldn't be nearly as amusing as the perverted posy, what was that thing's name again?

But then he stumbled upon a plant name that sounded quite simple and perhaps interesting without being dull, as almost all plants are. Boa Vine. Harry couldn't understand why no one had chosen it already, it seemed like an interesting plant, and vines couldn't be nearly as difficult to tend as flowers. He printed his name next plant, hastily turning the P for Potter into a T for Tempus.

Professor Pod took the list and began going over it.

He called on students, seemingly at random to discuss their plant and to give them whatever seeds or cuttings were required to get started.

Harry rejoined Remus, Alice and Lily as the Gryffindors chatted about the project.

"What did you choose Remus?" Alice asked.

"Florescent Moss," he said. "I've seen it growing in the woods near my house, it really is nice to look at in the evening."

Alice looked thoughtful, "I don't think I've seen it, but it does sound nice. Much better than mine," she said scrunching her face into one of disapproval. "Tickling Trellis," she pronounced, "I don't know why I choose it, who wants a plant to tickle them?"

Lily laughed, "I like mine, I'm curious what it will look like. We don't have a lot of magical plants growing in the areas around my house."

Alice frowned, "You're lucky, my mother is always having me degnome the garden to protect her precious singing snapdragons."

"What about you Harry?" Remus asked.

"A Boa Vine," Harry answered.

The other three looked at him blankly, "What?" Lily asked.

"A Boa Vine," Harry repeated. He wished they wouldn't start looking at him like that. It was making him worry that he'd chosen something very difficult, it was a bloody vine...how hard could it be?

"I don't remember that one," Remus mentioned with a puzzled expression.

"Me either," Lily agreed. "Are you sure that is what it is?"

Harry nodded, he could understand simple English. "Yeah, I'm surprised no one else took it," he added.

"It does sound interesting," Remus agreed.

"Much better than Tickling Trellis," Alice added.

Lily continued looking pensive.

Eventually as the class dragged on, people began to drift apart. Remus got a small amount of florecent moss, which during the day looking just like regular moss as far as Harry was concerned. Lily was pleased to no end when she managed to see a picture of the fern she was going to grow, and a little more disappointed when she received her spore and was told that through mitosis it would become a gametophyte, which would be an amazing accomplishment. Apparently it took fifty years for Lacy Feral Fern to reach adulthood. Alice was coming around to her Tickling Trellis, which turned out to be blue and fluffy.

When Harry's turn came, Professor Pod called him forward with a bit of excitement.

"So you chose this plant did you, Excellent excellent" the friendly professor said. He was digging through a trunk of sorts, turning and looking at Harry periodically and gesturing with his eyebrows.

"Er, yeah," Harry said, "Sir is there something odd about a Boa Vine?"

"Oh, you know what it is, excellent. Then you may very well be the best person for it. A friend of mine, very accomplished botanist, managed to raise a specimen to this level, but I'm afraid he didn't have the particular talent needed to really make it grow." Professor Pod reached deep into the trunk and pulled out a small terra cotta pot, with what looked like a short stick emerging from the dirt.

Harry was less than impressed, "That's it."

"Yes," Professor Pod said excitedly, "He did an excellent job didn't he. Took him two years of constant attention to get it to this level."

Harry looked at the stick again.

"But I daresay you'll have much more luck," Professor Pod smiled and winked in his direction.

"Umm, why is that?" Harry wondered. The batty professor couldn't imagine that Harry had a green thumb? Sure he did his share of gardening for the Durselys but it wasn't exactly his best skill.

"Well because you're a parselmouth my dear boy," Pod said excitedly.

Harry felt a wild urge to clamp his hand over the man's mouth. Hadn't he just been discussing parselmouths this morning. Had word spread that he was defending snake speakers.

"I'm not," he argued hastily.

"Of course you are," Professor Pod said with a negligent wave of his hand, "If you weren't you wouldn't be able to read the name of the plant."

Harry paused, "What are you talking about it is written in plain English."

"No my dear boy it is written in plain Parselspeak, a written form of snake language. Not invented by snakes my dear boy, I imagine it would be very difficult for them to hold a quill." Pod paused for a moment and giggled, as if he really were imagining snakes writing letters, he snapped out of it with a jerk, " No invented by other parselmouths as a way to communicate only to each other. I dutifully copied down this plant's parselspeak name and you managed to read it."

Harry grew still, "Don't tell anyone about this," he said harshly.

Professor Pod seemed to break out of his chipper attitude for a moment, "It is nothing to be ashamed of my boy."

"Tell that to the school of people who will demonize me if they find out," Harry muttered.

Pod reached out an patted the boy's shoulder, "I have no wish to out your secret my boy. I'm only excited that I have the chance to grow this plant in a proper environment. You see you need to speak to it, or with it I suppose. Excellent eh?"

Harry thought if the man said the word excellent one more time he was going to bash in his skull with this excellent little plant. Harry looked down at the grubby little stick, "Talk to it?"

"Yes, my chum kept it in a cage with snakes, that is how it grew as well as it did. But I'm afraid that on their own snakes aren't the most conversational bunch, apparently. Oh but then you'd know more than I."

"Keep it down," Harry directed.

Pod flashed a grin that wasn't comforting, "Well, either way Mr. Tempus, I've provided a book about this plant with some suggestions on how to take care of it. I'll have to ask that you keep it with you nearby, it seems to do better when it has a connection to the witch or wizard tending it."

Harry nodded, taking the book and the stick from the Herbology professor with a curt nod.

"Good luck," the man called as Harry turned around. "This is excellent, just excellent."

Once Harry returned to his peers, he shoved the pot into his bag, paying the stick no attention.

The others seemed to read his disappointment and chose to stay silent.

Their remaining classmates came up and discussed things with the batty professor, and the other Gryffindors chatted about classes and gossip, but Harry couldn't get up the energy to worry about it. The little twig in his bag seemed to be an unwelcome weight. It wasn't that he was ashamed of what he was. At home his parselmouth status was well known and he really didn't care what people had to say about it. As far as he was concerned it was just a somewhat useful skill, and hey, snakes were pretty agreeable once you knew the language.

Yet, somehow the idea of public vilification seemed to be a little much. Wasn't he already under enough pressure? Now he had to rely on the circumspection of a...Harry glanced over at Professor Pod, the man was leaping about demonstrating the correct procedure for dancing with a Leaping Lily. Yes...he had nothing to worry about at all.

After class was over Lily and Remus left for Ancient Runes, or was it Arithmancy? Either way Harry wasn't taking it and had the rest of the afternoon free. Feeling a little tired he decided hide away in his dorm until dinner and then his lesson with Sirius.

He unpacked his books, leaving the boa vine sitting unhappily on his bedside table.

"So, you like parselmouths," he addressed the plant. "You're probably the only one."

There wasn't any response, was he speaking in parseltongue.

"_Hello_," he tried again, this time thinking of a serpent. There was no response from the little plant.

"I tried," he declared. With a yawn he allowed himself to settle back on his bed, the late afternoon sun blocked by his curtains. It wasn't long before he was asleep.

-

In a few hours time when Harry stirred, he felt an odd scratchy feeling around his wrist.

He pulled his arm roughly, jerking away from whatever was wrapping around him.

"_You're moving_," something seemed to say.

"_Yeah..._" Harry was rather disoriented. Most of the sun had set it seemed and his tower dorm room was murky with shadow.

"_A speaker_," the voice said with some excitement.

Harry had heard that sort of phrase before. Like when he walked into pet shops, the reptile section to be precise.

"_Lumos_," he cast, allowing his wand to lite the gloom.

A rather vibrant green vine seemed to be twining from his bed side table, curling up and around his bed and settling near where his arm had been.

Harry gazed at the plant in shock.

"_You can talk_," he found himself saying.

"_Yes,_" the vine replied.

"_How did you get so big_," he asked the plant.

"_You spoke to me_," the vine stated.

Harry noted that while sentient, the plant didn't seem to have much emotion. Which was perhaps a good thing. He really didn't want a temper tantrum from his Herbology assignment.

"_So you can grow when I speak to you? Why is that?_" He looked at the vine in some amazement, as he spoke to it the plant did seem to be growing, moving smoothly along his bedcovers as if it really were a snake.

"_I do not know_," the vine said. "_I want to grow_."

Harry remembered the book that Professor Pod had provided. He leaned over the bed, fumbling in his bag to try and find the slender little notebook. He finally fished it out, it was small black book with the word Boa Vine written in a curling script. Harry opened the first page with some curiosity.

That curiosity quickly died. The book was written like some herbologist's diary, it was filled with inane details about fertilizer, pruning and magical pests. It didn't seem to offer any reason why the Boa Vine seemed to like growing around parselmouths. Harry tossed to book aside, looking at the plant with narrowed eyes.

"_You couldn't grow away from my bed could you?_"The creeping vine was spreading across his mattress at an alarming rate.

"_Yes_," the vine said. But 'said' was perhaps the wrong word to use, Harry couldn't see a mouth, the noise itself seemed to come from the sliding of the vine against itself, it must have produced a slight hissing sound that for a parselmouth mimicked speech. But then how could it hear?

Yet the vine could listen, at Harry's words the plant had moved from his bed and was now slowly twining up the sides and resting contentedly along his canopy.

Great, Harry thought to himself, now I'm living in a greenhouse.

In his annoyance Harry glanced at the clock.

"Bollox," he cursed in English. At least he hoped it was English. It was already past six-thirty and he had promised to met up with Sirius and Professor Barten after dinner. Which should be about now. He jumped from his bed.

"_Where are you going,_" the vine seemed to ask.

"I.._I have class, I'll be back,_" he responded.

Harry ran out of the empty tower and decided to head straight for the Defense professor's office. He only passed a few students in the halls, most it seemed were at dinner. Which was really where he would rather be. His stomach seemed to grumble in complaint. Well, it couldn't be helped. He'd promised to help Sirius and that was what he was going to do.

If only he knew how.

-

Professor Barten was once again grading essays when Harry arrived. The Defense Professor certainly seemed fond of assigning homework. He had also shed his robes and was dressed as a muggle. It was unusual to see a professor dressed as such, perhaps that was what made Harry feel more comfortable in his presence. Maybe it had just been the previous lesson that had eased some of the tension. Maybe it was simply because it had been a few days since Harry had thrown the man across a room. Either way he felt better about this than he had before.

Sirius was close on his heels tonight, if Harry felt better, Sirius definitely seemed to feel worse. He entered the class room with his face set in a tight line. He took a seat not bothering to speak to Harry or look at him.

"Evening Professor," Sirius said moodily to Barten.

"Both here," the professor said looking up. The man's dark hair had been pulled back some, allowing them to see his angular face a little better. Two slender scars marred his cheek, they weren't noticeable when the man's chin length hair blocked the sides of his face.

"Shall we get right to it?" He rose from his feet a little stiffly.

Sirius also rose, his own steps looking more like he was on his way to an execution, "Can we not be asking about pranks tonight," he questioned with a stern expression.

"I think, as evidenced from last time that you do better when threatened with something unpleasant," Barten said, eyeing the young man with those annoyingly observant eyes.

"Just to start out," Sirius argued.

Barten nodded, he turned to Harry, "Any other advice Mr. Tempus?"

Harry was left without much to say, "Just fight against the voice in your head and remember that the spell isn't real. I mean it doesn't have any more control over you than you let it have."

"Well put Mr. Tempus," Barten said before turning back to Sirius. "_Imperio_."

Tonight's lesson seemed to be an exercise in futility. Sirius's ability to withstand the curse hadn't improved at all since their last lesson. Nor did he seem to be improving at all tonight. Each time it seemed to take only a moment before the pureblood succumbed to whatever the Professor wanted him to do. And Sirius was obviously growing more and more upset with each failed attempt. His hair, usually rather polished, seemed to have grown disheveled. His face was red and he wiped his sweaty forehead angrily. He refused to look Harry in the eye, despite asking for the young time traveler's help, he didn't seem to want to hear any of the advice Harry was giving. After each failed attempt, Sirius would merely move back to a fighting stance and say, "Again."

Eventually Professor Barten seemed to be eying Sirius with more and more trepidation. After the tenth or so attempt, he seemed hesitant to continue.

"Again," Sirius repeated. His eyes seemed to glow with some sort of obsession.

"One more time," Barten allowed, speaking as if his actions were done without his better judgement.

"_Imperio_."

Harry watched as once again Sirius fought vainly to stop the curse, but as before his actions were futile. He seemed to stutter for a moment before listing off a litany of successful pranks.

Harry sighed. Once the spell was lifted Sirius seemed to stare ahead stonily, his feeling of failure almost palpable.

"Thanks Professor," Sirius ground out through clenched teeth. Once again the young man left the room without saying a word to Harry.

"Bye," Harry called.

Once again, for no reason whatever, Harry found himself chasing after Sirius. He didn't know why he was so determined to talk to him. Perhaps it was because it seemed like this mattered so much to his godfather, and yet Sirius didn't have anyone to confide in. Perhaps it was because, that while this Sirius and his godfather weren't really the same people...well Harry had turned to Sirius when he'd really needed someone. Maybe he just couldn't back away when Sirius obviously needed a shoulder to lean on.

"Hey, wait up," Harry called.

Sirius stopped dead, turning around to face Harry, his face furious, "What do you want," he said harshly.

Harry paused, "Eh, so that was rough?"

Sirius reached out and grabbed Harry's collar, he tugged him roughly, jerking him into a wall, "I don't need to hear from you Tempus," he yelled angrily. His voice pounding down, however the way his hands were shaking, Harry wasn't certain that Sirius wasn't avoiding hitting him.

"Calm down," Harry found himself saying.

"Calm how can I be calm!" Sirius ranted. He released Harry and backed away, "Anyone can go ordering me about like a little toy solider, why should I be calm?"

Harry watched Sirius's back, "Why do you need to learn this?" he asked.

Sirius pulled away, "It's none of your business."

Harry was starting to feel angry now, "Hey you pulled me into this, You wanted my help. I'm trying to help you but if you won't tell me why..."

"Yeah, help me, sure. How would you know how to help me, you could fight this on your first try." Sirius pulled away, moving towards the Common Room.

"Hey," Harry called, he ran after Sirius, running until he stood before him, blocking his path. "I might not be able to help you, yeah, but at least I'm trying."

"Trying!" Sirius yelled. The pureblood seemed to realize that they were being loud in a popular corridor, any Gryffindor could stumble upon them when returning to the Common Room. "Come here," he turned to the left and muttered some sort of password to a portrait. Harry recognized it as the secret passage that led to the third floor.

"I am trying," Sirius said as he slammed the portrait behind Harry.

"If you were really trying you'd let me know why this is so important, then maybe I could really help you." Now that they were alone Harry felt free to let his own frustration vent.

"What does that have to do with it," Sirius said defensively.

Harry sighed, "Look, wanting to learn a spell when the pressure is really on, well it makes it even harder."

Sirius scoffed, raising his eyebrows, "Yeah and when have you ever had a spell you needed to learn and couldn't."

Suddenly Harry's impressive class record was working against him, he paused for a moment. "Look," he paused again. Harry knew that he and this Sirius weren't friends, normally he wouldn't discuss this with just any classmate, he had trouble talking to Ron and Hermione about this...but be couldn't see any other way of talking to Sirius. Because whether the pureblood wanted to be friends or not, a friend might be what he needed right now.

"Do you know what your boggart is?" Harry asked randomly.

Sirius seemed annoyed but answered anyway, "Yeah."

"Mine is a Dementor," Harry said. Sirius looked a little surprised at this revelation. "I can't stand them, whenever they get near me...well I sort of have a bad reaction. I black out, I... I hear my parents before they die. My mum screaming..."

Sirius was still, it was rather dark in the secret passage and Harry couldn't read his reaction.

"Well I wanted to learn the charm that drove them away, conjuring a Patronus. I went for lesson a couple days a week for, it must have been months. And I never seemed to get anywhere. My professor said I was making progress, but it was never good enough. It seemed like every time I went to cast my spell, a part of me would freeze up."

"What happened," Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged, "I finally figured out that the reason I _couldn't_ cast the spell was the same reason why I _wanted _to cast it in the first place. A part of me really wanted to hear my parents. Even if it was something so terrible. I guess I was thinking too much on the reasons why I did or didn't want the spell to work, that I didn't focus just on the spell."

Sirius was still standing stiffly, but he hadn't interrupted.

"Maybe you're to worried about why you need to learn to break this curse, that you can't focus just on that. I can tell you've got the will, maybe you just are caught in so much other shite that it gets pushed down."

Sirius seemed unable to say anything to that.

"I know I'm not your friend, and maybe you don't want to tell me. But talk to someone about it eh? It might help you figure out why you want this so badly."

Sirius nodded.

Harry turned to leave, he began to push against the portrait back when he heard Sirius behind him.

"I..." Sirius paused, "My family. I don't want to be like them. But this spell...if I can't break it. What if they make me like them anyway?"

Harry turned back. "I don't know your family," he lied, "But if you don't want to be like them, you won't be." With a nod to the boy behind him he stepped through the portrait hole, leaving a quiet Sirius Black in the dark.

-

James yawned tiredly. He had stayed up later than he'd planned. Sirius seemed to have ditched them all once again. Something that had him a little nervous. Sirius tended to be a bit reckless when he was on his own. James hoped that his friend hadn't once again snuck into the Slytherin Common Room alone. That was dangerous preposition at the best of times. Look what they had done to Peter.

James found himself looking over absently at a chair that, until a few minutes ago, had housed Lily Evans. His thoughts often drifted to her. Although he didn't really know why. She was pretty, sure, but there were other pretty girls. And there were doubtlessly girls that were less work. He'd spent all day following Tempus's advice, 'talking' to Lily about 'her interests'. Truth be told he only really knew that she was interested in school, so he'd confined his topics to that. But even that hadn't seemed to work well. True Lily hadn't really yelled at him or tried to slap him but she wasn't warming up to him either. She seemed to watch him suspiciously, his every comment analyzed before she'd offer a response.

He sighed, yep that was how a guy wanted to court a girl. He should listen to Sirius and give her up, still...there was something about her. He couldn't deny it. Out of all the girls he'd ever met there was something about her that seemed to draw his attention. Any girl he met was always compared to her, and each and every one seemed somehow lacking.

Sirius said that would change once he shagged her. Sirius seemed to like to think that his fascination with Lily was because he couldn't have her. And indeed she was one of the few girls who didn't seem interested, James smiled at that thought. And maybe Sirius would know. He was the one with more experience. While James had a few girlfriends when he was younger, his sum total of 'sexual experiences' was comprised of a girl he'd met while he and his parents had vacationed in Spain the previous summer. And even she had been a redhead.

The Common Room was emptying and still there was no sign of Sirius. Remus, ever the early riser, was already headed to bed, Peter had followed. Tempus had returned just before curfew and played a game of chess with Frank Longbottom before also going to the dorm. He was sort of a weird bloke, smart, but you never saw him with a book. Or doing homework. Not that James really did much homework either, but he did do some. Tempus treated the idea of assignments as if they were optional.

James looked at the clock, curfew had come and gone some time ago, and still no Sirius, but that wasn't really a surprise. They could all maneuver their way through the halls well enough to not be caught. James smiled, curfew was the sort of thing that lessor mortals worried about, not the Marauders.

The portrait hole opened and James was able to relax when he spotted his best friend. His expression changed however when he noticed how Sirius was acting. James had sort of been hoping that his friend had gotten together with another girl, but Sirius's walk lacked any sort of strut. Nope, not a girl.

"Hey," James greeted.

Sirius plopped into a chair beside James, he worried his lips a bit, rubbing his hands together.

"Where were you?" James asked, worrying that his fears might well be justified.

Sirius shrugged before looking at his friend, "I...I've been asking for special lessons from Barten," he confessed.

James looked at him surprised, that had been the last thing he'd been expecting, "What?" he managed to say.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, "Yeah, lessons to try and break the Imperius Curse," he said. He looked into the fire as he spoke and James knew he shouldn't treat this lightly.

"What happened," he asked. Not knowing why he phrased it like that.

But it seemed to be the right question, "I had a bad summer," he explained.

James nodded, "I know."

Sirius looked up, "I guess they've been bad the last few years." The pureblood seemed to have stolen James's gesture, he ran a hand through his hair sending the normally tidy locks into some disarray.

"Yeah, that's an understatement," James agreed.

The Common Room was pretty empty now, still Sirius looked around uncomfortably. Only a few seventh years were present, finishing some homework for their NEWT year. Sirius seemed to watch them closely before continuing, "I sort of ran away, I left and I don't think I'm ever gonna go back" he said.

"Why didn't you tell me," James asked feeling guilty, although he didn't know why.

"I didn't want you or your Mum or Dad to feel sorry for me, I didn't want make it a big deal. I just wanted to come over like usual. I didn't want to have to tell you the horrible things my parents said. I..." Sirius trailed off.

"You're my best mate," James stated, "I wouldn't have cared. You know I think your parents are a bunch of nutters, your Mum especially."

"How could I tell you that I had to leave my home or else they would have made me join up with..." Sirius broke off, unable to finish saying what he'd started. He balled his hands into fists as he spoke, yet seemed afraid to see James's reaction.

"I don't care," James pressed on, his face had gone a little pale but his resolution hadn't changed. "My Mum and Dad are ready to adopt you right now, they always have been. I think My Mum likes you better than me."

Sirius laughed a little at that, "Well you can't blame her can you?"

"So these lessons?" James asked.

Sirius shrugged, he turned back to the fire again, "I don't know. When Barten cast the spell on us in class, I thought I'd be able to break it."

"You did better than me," James argued.

"I still did what he said," Sirius pointed out. "I can't stand the fact that my parents could just cast this on me and I'd do whatever they wanted."

"You don't seriously think they'd..."

Sirius's look was enough to send James into silence.

"Bugger," he cursed softly, "I didn't know it was that bad..."

Sirius tried to pull away, "I don't know, maybe they wouldn't...maybe they don't care enough with Regulus dancing to their tune...I just, I always knew I'd do what I wanted. The fact that this curse takes all that away. It scares the shit out of me." Sirius swallowed, almost unable to believe he'd managed to put it into words like that. He'd been trying to figure out, ever since he'd failed to break the curse in class, why he felt this gnawing sort of feeling in his gut.

"How have the lessons been going," James asked. He had leaned forward some while Sirius was speaking, now he was sitting as near to his friend as their separate chairs would allow.

"Terrible," Sirius said with a laugh. "I even got Tempus to help," Sirius added.

"Really?" James said in surprise, he knew that Sirius didn't exactly like the new transfer. He paused, "Maybe. Well, maybe next lesson I could come along eh? I mean I need the practice too."

Sirius seemed shocked at the offer, although he knew he probably shouldn't be.

"Yeah, that would be nice," he said, although he didn't know why.

James nodded.

Somehow, sitting together in the silence, Sirius felt better than he had in a long time. He found himself remembering why he and James were such good friends, found himself wondering why he'd been so ashamed to let his best mate in on the horror of his family.

"Yeah, next time I'll go and then we'll both learn how to break it and become amazing Aurors."

Sirius nodded, finding himself unable to say anything for a moment, "How'd it go tonight with Lily," he finally managed to say.

James seemed to cringe but smiled at the same time, "Well, better than usual I suppose, first..."

Sirius allowed himself to lean back while his friends lapsed into another monologue concerning the wonder known as Lily Evans. Nothing seemed to please James more than speaking about her and tonight Sirius allowed it, not really paying much attention, just smiling while his friend rambled on about their nonexistent connection and 'deepening relationship'. Sirius couldn't help the small chuckle as he listened to James excitedly provide the step-by-step account of giving Lily his mother's transfiguration book. James seemed to see it as amazing progress, sure sign that Tempus's advice was working.

James continued speaking, but Sirius found his thoughts drifting to Harry Tempus. That didn't happen often, he'd pretty much decided to dislike the boy...case closed. Still, it had to be said that on more than a few occasions, the new student had provided advice that was surprisingly good.

As Sirius enjoyed his current contentment, he found himself wondering just who Harry Tempus was.

-

A/N: I'm impatient, So I updated without it being beta-ed again. Reviews help to get me churning on the next chapter. Hence, any errors are mine, hope you still enjoyed. Also, on the bonus side, I have a poll up and running on my profile. As it relates to the timetravel genre, I thought that perhaps you might be interested in polling in. I'm curious what you all think.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Time to be Careful

Day: Seven (Which isn't a lucky number)

-

It didn't take long for the boys of the sixth year to realize that something was...strange. Everyone had gone to bed feeling a little too tired to take note of certain oddities, and frankly in the dark it hadn't been noticeable. But in the morning light it was all too apparent, and growing more annoying by the minute. Growing being the key word.

"What are we sleeping in a greenhouse?" Sirius complained. His previous warm thoughts about their new dorm mate seemed to have vanished just as quickly as they had come. He glared at Tempus as if the boy had brought the plague to their door. And he very well might have.

Harry shrugged desperately, "Sorry about all this," he'd actually said this phrase a few times now.

The young time traveler had been awoken this morning being jostled by Remus. It was an odd circumstance, during his time in the past Harry had, much to his pride, been the one boy that the prefect didn't have to forcibly remove from his bed every morning. Thus, he was a little shocked that he had required waking and the faint light that was creeping through the curtains also led him to believe that it wasn't that late.

"What?" he muttered, trying not to be grumpy. Really he was.

"Harry, uh...I think your Herbology assignment is a success."

That was an odd thing to wake someone up for, Harry thought dazedly, "Huh," he muttered articulately.

"Look," Remus stated.

That would require him to open his eyes all the way right? Still, Harry somehow managed to comply with this unreasonable request. Only to quickly shut his eyes again and groan.

"That bloody plant," he cursed. The Boa Vine that had entered his life yesterday was making its presence felt. The vivid green plant had spread from the canopy of his bed, across the walls and seemed to have twined around everyone else's beds and personal effects before growing thick on the floor. Their dormitory looked as if it were somewhere in the jungle.

"_Like to grow,_" came a hissing sound that seemed far too loud.

Harry ignored it, don't think of snakes, don't think of snakes, he repeated to himself before speaking, "Sorry about this," he said to Remus, sitting up he looked around tiredly.

"How did you do it?" Remus asked in amazement. "I saw the plant Professor Pod gave you yesterday."

"I didn't even talk to it last night," Harry said in some amazement.

"What?" Remus asked curiously.

"Uhh...nothing. What?" Harry looked away and shrugged, his attitude going for nonchalant, "Yeah this is something isn't it." He was soon ducking under his bed trying to find the small book that Professor Pod had given him. There had to be something in there on containing the wretched vine. Endangered plant, ha, this thing grew like a weed.

That led to their current situation, where in Harry's dorm mates were trying almost helplessly to gather their belongings for the day. Such a normal task was somehow very difficult. The vine had managed to twine around dressers, tangle up backpacks, and, in Peter's case, it had even managed to imprison the boy in his bed. Okay, so it wasn't all bad.

Harry paged through the black book helplessly, once again he was finding nothing helpful. Who cared that the vine grew better in phosphate rich soil. As far as Harry could tell the thing didn't need soil at all.

"Are you sure this isn't a prank," James Potter asked for the second time.

"No," Harry repeated.

James shook his head, "Man it is a good one." The quidditch star seemed unable to accept that such a genius prank was in fact an accident. He'd been chuckling to himself for the last half hour, while wrestling his clothes from the plant.

"I think we should get Professor Pod," Remus stated again.

"What would he be able to do, he was trying to get the thing to grow, not kill it," Harry argued. Also he worried what the man would do if he saw their dorm's current state. For all he knew the room might be considered a preserve for an endangered plant.

"I say we go jungle and just machete it," Sirius said, yanking at his own dresser drawers.

"Could you at least cut me out," Peter asked. At first he'd been a little upset and frightened, but that novelty was wearing off and Peter was contemplating going back to sleep.

"We're a half-hour late for class," Remus moaned.

James laughed, "Just brilliant," he said, "I don't think we could have come up with a better prank."

"It isn't a prank," Harry tried to argue again.

"It's just Potions," was Sirius's attempt at easing Remus's panic.

"Potions," Remus said, his voice a little higher pitched than normal. "Slughorn will never let us make up the points."

"Maybe not you," James agreed, "But I think he sort of likes me and Sirius."

"Your families rather," Remus remarked sourly.

Harry was wondering if he could whisper in parseltongue. He was perhaps the most dressed of the four, casually he kicked of one of his shoes and pushed it under the bed. "I wonder where my shoe is," he said louder than was necessary.

Everyone looked at him like he was dense.

"I'll, uh, just look under my bed for it shall I," he speculated.

Harry quickly crawled under his bed, rather glad to miss the questioning looks he received. And why was it necessary for him to crawl so far under his bed? Well, thankfully everyone was too occupied with their own concerns to mind him. Harry managed to wiggle his way close to the wall and vine.

"_You're too big," _he hissed with a slightly angry tone.

"_Like to grow_" the vine replied.

"_Yes, I know you like to grow. I don't care. You're too big, get smaller, stay by my bed, if you don't I'll let Sirius take a machete to you."_ Harry's temper really wasn't where it should be. He was under his bed, whispering in parseltongue to_ a plant_, and to top it off he had to worry about his dead father figuring out he was a parselmouth.

The plant seemed to make a noise of unhappiness, but then with a sudden speed that surprised Harry, the vine seemed to collapse in on itself. It moved similarly to the way that a retractable measuring tape responds when it is released and allowed to retract. It other words, very fast.

"Woah," Remus called as one vine whipped past him at an amazing speed.

"Ouch," Peter complained, rubbing his wrist where one vine had left a small red mark in its haste to move.

In less than a minute the enormous vine had shrunk back to the size it had been the other night, growing harmlessly around Harry's bed. Of which Harry was just crawling out from underneath of.

"That was weird," he commented.

"What did you do?" Remus asked, his tone slightly amazed.

"Nothing," Harry was quick to say, "Maybe Sirius's machete talk frightened it."

James frowned, "Yeah maybe. Well I suppose we can go to class now."

"There is no way that the professors will believe us," Remus moaned.

Harry attempted a chuckle, Remus only glared at the attempt. Everyone knew that despite his rather impressive class record, Harry Tempus didn't give a hang about school work. This seemed to particularly irritate the prefect at the moment.

"I'm hungry," Peter stated.

Harry nodded, for the first time agreeing with the rat, "Yeah, I think we should get some breakfast."

"We should go to class," Remus argued. He was already packing his bag with books, a feat much easier now that the boa vine was no longer stealing his backpack, "If we all tell them together, the professors would have no choice but to believe us."

"I didn't have dinner," Harry muttered.

"Why weren't you at dinner," Remus asked.

Harry didn't bother to spare Sirius a glance, "I fell asleep," Harry said. He looked at his own backpack disdainfully. Somehow the idea of once again going to class and sitting through lessons he already knew just seemed unbearable. "I'm going to breakfast," he stated firmly.

James swung an arm around his new dorm mate's shoulder, "First he pranks us, then he skives class, ahhh, isn't it precious."

Okay that was almost sounding paternal, Harry quickly pushed James away, "I didn't prank you," he stated, for what must have been the tenth time.

James shook his head, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, "And he denies it splendidly, a real professional."

Harry decided there was no avoiding it.

"Let's get breakfast," Sirius decided. He'd finally managed to get into his dresser and now that he'd shed his pajamas he seemed ready for the day. And for the canine animagus, no day started without a healthy breakfast...or two.

Remus heaved a sigh, "Alright," he relented.

"But the Great Hall won't have any food, we'll have to show Harry the kitchens," Peter said.

Harry didn't really like that Pettigrew seemed comfortable calling him by his first name. While it was easy to distance yourself from some things, knowing that Peter was a pathetic, betraying, foot-kisser (Voldemort's feet to be precise), well it did make befriending him a little difficult.

"Great," James said. "I like eating in the kitchen better."

Sirius snickered, "You only like it because the house elves show 'proper appreciation for your greatness,' or something like that, what was it again?"

James cringed, "I only said that once," he muttered.

The five gryffindor boys were soon leaving their dorm room, Although James paused for a moment and grabbed something out of his trunk before being the last one out. They crossed through a mostly empty Common Room. Most of the students were in class, only a few seventh years seemed to have schedules that allowed them time off in the mornings.

When they exited for a moment, James once agin dropped back, glancing at a piece of parchment...one which was oddly familiar.

Harry felt as if a lead weight had landed squarely in his intestinal track. The bloody Map! How could he have forgotten that. The map never lies. Yeah, well, maps are nice like that. Time traveling sons however, well they tell a few fibs.

"Er, what you got there?" Harry asked with the feeling of dread descending upon him.

"It's a map of Hogwarts," James answered.

Sirius moved between Harry and the map, "And it's not something we want people knowing about."

When had Sirius decided to be a berk again? "Okay," Harry allowed. Still he couldn't help but wish he'd could manage to catch a glimpse of it. From what Remus had said once, the map had taken all their years of Hogwarts to make. It originally had just been a map to help them remember where all the secret passageways were, and the different passwords for each. Later they had added different spells to track people and other security devises to prevent unwanted readers. Each year they had added new spells, until their creation had been taken by a suspicious Filch.

But what incarnation was the map currently in.

"Let's take a sweep through the west passage and that stairway behind that portrait of a violin playing hag." James tucked the map back in his pocket without giving Harry a glance at the parchment.

The others nodded and Harry fell into step behind them. By James's route they encountered no one, finally entering the kitchens with no one the wiser. Which was good because they had all reached the point where breakfast sounded more appealing than finishing a potions class.

Entering the kitchen provoked a reaction from the small inhabitants. House elves had been moving swiftly around the kitchen, taking pots, bowls, dishes and silverware to a large sink, whose bubbles were actually larger than the house elves themselves. But this didn't seem to be much of a problem considering the scrub brushes seemed to act on their own, and the dishes, once properly scrubbed, shot out of the sink at a fast speed and were caught by a few elves who than put them were they belonged.

It really was quite an impressive way to wash dishes, and Harry was of the mind that perhaps the small creatures weren't as batty to like housework as he had always thought. This did seem like the funniest way to clean dishes that he had ever seen, and during his time at the Dursely's he'd cleaned his fair share.

However, their presence wasn't unnoticed for long.

"Masters Marauders," one of the elves greeted, he seemed to a person of some importance seeing as a little copper pin was attached to the front of his pillowcase.

"Hey Mip," James greeted, obviously familiar with the little elf.

"You couldn't get us some breakfast?" Peter asked.

And just to prove Peter wrong, and show that, indeed, they could get breakfast, a flurry of little creatures were soon moving away from the sink and promptly bringing out a good collection of whatever had been served earlier today. The Marauders, plus Harry, soon settled themselves at a small round shaped table. Small was perhaps the best way to describe it. The furniture was possibly used by the house elves themselves, and the chairs were so small that the wizards worried that they would break if sat on. Thus the group settled on the floor, eating their breakfast with some contentment.

Harry was hungrier today than was common, normally breakfast for him was an egg or some toast. But missing dinner had made him a little more ravenous.

"Remus tells me you have a werewolf friend," Sirius said.

An odd way to start a conversation Harry thought.

"Yes," he answered.

James nudged his friend.

"And you're an orphan huh," Sirius asked again.

What was this the Spanish Inquisition? Not to mention is seemed odd describing yourself as an orphan when your father was sitting beside you, eating his bowl of cereal rather sloppily.

"Uh, yeah," he said.

"Who do you live with," Peter asked, seemingly wanting to join Sirius in whatever game he was playing.

"My Aunt and Uncle," Harry said stonily. "Who do you live with," he added, mostly just to be disagreeable.

"Er...My Mum," Peter stuttered, for some reason the rat animagus didn't seem to like it when the tables were turned.

"Your parents were murdered right," Sirius pressed on.

"Sirius," James said, once again nudging his friend and looking irritated.

"Just asking our new room mate some questions, nothing wrong there is it," Sirius raised a black eyebrow to James's frown.

Harry's expression tightened some, "I'm also a Leo, enjoy long walks on the beach and cuddling before an open fire, if any of that interests you," Harry offered snarkily.

That seemed to shut Sirius up for a bit. James on the other hand found it funny and laughed, Remus's eyes were hiding laughter and Peter laughed, but only after James had.

Soon the Marauders fell into their own conversations. Told old jokes, teased each other lightly. Harry was firmly reminded that he was very much the fifth wheel on the cart, but actually preferred it that way. Being in this time had the potential to be both bad and good, personally he'd like to stick with remaining in the shadows..

"Let's at least go to Charms," Remus urged as everyone was finishing up their breakfast.

"I forgot my book," Peter said, sounding slightly panicky. Harry recalled that Charms was Pettigrew's best class.

"We've got enough time," Sirius said. "See you in class Tempus," he said.

Harry nodded, not the least upset about the brash dismissal, "Yeah, see you."

Harry turned and left the Marauders alone, James faced Sirius with a somewhat perplexed expression, "What was that about, I thought you were coming around to Tempus?"

Sirius sighed, exiting through the kitchen door as he spoke, "Not everyone is willing to like the guy simply because he doesn't want to shag Evans."

"I don't know," Peter offered timidly, "He seems nice enough. If a little weird."

Sirius nodded, "My point, don't you think he's strange."

"Mate, some people think we're strange," James offered.

"No, I mean really, he seems to be amazingly smart, gets every spell right on the first try, his herbology assignment, which is supposed to be close to going extinct, overtakes our room, not to mention the Acromantula and the Imperius curse. And he defended Slytherins."

James rolled his eyes, "We get every spell right too. And he's amazing at quidditch."

"Come on Moony, you think he's a little strange right?" Sirius it seems had decided to give up on convincing James.

Moony paused, "Perhaps a little," he allowed, thinking of the boy's penchant for sweets, "But I don't see why you felt the need to pry into his personal life."

Sirius didn't know what to say to that. Honestly, he didn't know either. Perhaps it was because he wanted to 'kick the tires' so to speak. Maybe it was because there was something unsettling about Tempus, and it wasn't anything to do with the fact that the boy was good at school work. It was just...the way the boy responded to things. Sirius knew that during their confrontation the other night...if Sirius had been in Tempus's situation, he would have slugged himself. Or..that didn't come out right. If he were Tempus he would have slugged...Sirius...It was confusing to try and put himself in someone else's place. He didn't do it often. He simply couldn't get a firm grip on the boy's personality and it was irritating him.

The four had finally reached the Common Room, it was a little more crowded than it had been earlier, students were moving from class to class. The third years must have some sort of presentation due as they emerged from their own dorm carrying boxes the seemed to smoke slightly.

Entering the dorm everyone looked around a moment, hoping that the dreadful vine hadn't once again over taken their belongings, but the plant was growing harmlessly around Tempus's bed, looking as innocent as muggle ivy.

Peter hurried to his trunk, digging through it until he found the Charms book.

"Ready Pete," Sirius asked.

The other boy nodded.

James also moved to his trunk, pulling the map from his pocket he placed it on top, "You don't think Tempus would tell anyone about the map," he asked the others.

Sirius looked concerned but Remus shook his head in the negative.

James shrugged, "You're probably right, but it seems odd to have someone in our dorm who isn't..."

"One of us," Sirius provided.

"Someone new," James corrected. "When I pulled it out, I sort of forgot he was there," He suddenly looked toward Remus, "Is there Defense after lunch today?"

Remus nodded, "Double Defense."

"Might as well grab that book. Hey, you know what curse we're doing today!" James added, some sort of excitement in his voice.

"Err, do you think Barten will really be able to lecture on for a whole class about the Avada Kedavra curse? I mean, it's hits you, boom, you're dead. Not really that complicated," Sirius's words trailed off as the four teenagers left their dorm room.

Behind them the air shimmered for a moment, the space seemed to fold in on itself as Harry Potter stepped out of his invisibility cloak.

"If only it were that easy," Harry said rubbing his lightning bolt scar in a distracted manner. He crossed to James's trunk and flipped open the lid. The piece of parchment lay on the very top, looking blank and not nearly as worn looking as Harry remembered it to be.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Harry said. As usual ink swept across the page, reveling the halls of Hogwarts. Harry quickly located the Gryffindor Boy's dormitory, and there, right where he stood, was a little ink dot marked'_Harry Potter'. _

It seemed somewhat strange seeing that name now.

"Mischief Managed" Harry directed. He moved to his father's trunk. He pushed aside some the clothes and books that were on top, finally finding a second year Transfiguration text. He shoved the map inside, before once again burying the book. He hoped everything looked unchanged, but then James's trunk was such a mess, Harry doubted that his father would remember how everything hade been. Harry was certain that James would find the map again, just some time _after_ he had returned to the future.

It wouldn't do for James to learn the last name of his 'twin'.

Harry grabbed his own Defense text, frowning as he did so. He wasn't looking forward to another of Barten's lessons on the Unforgivables. Moody had spent only two days on the curses, that had seemed more than enough. Was it odd that a disguised deatheater was Harry's preferred professor?

Harry hurried through the Common Room, moving to the Charm corridor. By the now silent halls it was easy to tell that class had already started. But Harry wasn't really worried, he had an excuse ready made.

He slipped into the Charms room, trying to quietly pass Professor Flitwick who was lecturing on the potential risks in some charm or other..

Lily managed to send him a glance that was both disapproving and concerned. The marauders just looked at him dumbly, he could guess that they had been curious about why he wasn't already in class.

He managed to snag a desk in front that no one had claimed. It didn't take long for him to fall into a stupor. He remembered why he didn't want to come to class. Flitwick was covering animation charms, something that Harry had already learned. Really, he wasn't smart, this sort of deception was proving annoying, he'd simply been taught this material only a month ago.

Once the class had broken up to practice the spells, Flitwick approached Harry's desk.

"Mr. Tempus, can you explain why you were late for class?" the small man inquired with a pleasant tone.

"I'm afraid I got lost sir," Harry answered, throwing on his best sheepish smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," the small man said kindly, "Perhaps you should stick with your fellow Gryffindors more."

Harry nodded. The small professor nodding, before moving on to the other students.

"Did you really get lost?" Remus asked. The bookish Gryffindor was seated behind him, he leaned forward questioningly.

"Yeah, I'd ever been to the kitchen's before, must have took a wrong turn," Harry lied.

Remus seemed to pause for a moment before looking back at his text.

Needless to say, Charms was rather boring. For whatever reason Lily seemed mad at him, and while the class practiced the charm Harry grew more and more bored. Finally he animated his quill to dance in Lily's direction. She seemed less than amused. Whether that was because she was mad or because her own quill seemed stuck doing a can-can, well it could be either.

Harry finally dismissed it. At least he had Defense to look forward to. (And that my good friends is sarcasm.)

When Charms was over Lunch was perhaps a welcome relief. Despite the fact that the male Gryffindor sixth years had just eaten breakfast not long ago, they all seemed able to eat a full meal. Lily was still ignoring him, which lead Harry to spend most of the time chatting with Alice. Who, he decided, he liked. Mostly because she had a sharp sense of humor and seemed to revel in making lewd comments about the Professor's sex lives.

"I'm just saying," the blonde said with a high tone, "It is a little suspicious that Professor Pod and Professor Slughorn both went to Egypt over the summer, and I have seen them chatting quite often."

Frank looked down at his full plate, "Thanks, now I can't eat."

Alice smiled, "What, there is nothing wrong with two men sharing in a healthy-"

"Please stop," Frank implored. "I don't want to have to imagine Slughorn with anyone."

"Him naked _would_ be like watching jello jiggle eh?" Alice commented.

Harry looked down at the green jello he had put on his plate, he tapped it speculatively with his fork and watched it shake. He looked at Frank, the feeling of companionship was overwhelming, he pushed his own plate away.

"You two are so judgmental, everyone needs a little good healthy sex," Alice decided.

Ethan, who had been listening into the conversation, smiled at Alice, draping his arm around her he turned to Frank, "Man, you have the best girlfriend."

Frank glared and Ethan removed his arm.

Lily had been growing beet red as she tried to ignore the conversation. Harry was starting to see why Alice had traveled down this line of discussion, it was obviously grating for Lily to not step in and defend her professor's virtue.

Alice seemed to note that he'd caught on to her agenda, "What about Mcgonagall?" she questioned.

Lily stilled.

Harry smiled, then tried to look serious, "Oh I know she's shagging Professor Barten, that's obvious."

Lily seemed to draw a large breath.

"Well, but the real question is, do you think she's boinking Dumbledore too?"

"You two stop this instant," Lily said, finally not being able to take anymore. "They are professors, and... they are professors." She seemed too flustered to offer any more defense.

"I exist," Harry said in an amazed tone, "Alice, I officially exist."

"That's good, I thought your nonexistence was taking up a great deal of space," she commented.

"Ha, Ha, Ha," Lily said without amusement, "You know perfectly well why I'm mad at you."

Harry took a moment to think, "No, I really don't."

"You skived off a class!" she hissed at him.

"What are you his mother," Ethan complained. Frank nodded slightly.

Lily didn't spare the seventh year a glance, Harry narrowly avoided choking.

"Did you even ask me why I missed Potions?" Harry asked.

Lily opened her mouth, then paused, "Er, no not exactly."

Alice raised an eyebrow superiorly. Harry was starting to think that the two girls had already discussed this and Alice was being proved right. Lily caught the expression and seemed to mellow, she released a sigh and took a sip of her juice.

"You remember the Boa Vine I got yesterday," Harry asked.

"Sure," Lily agreed, not knowing where this was going. Ethan and Frank were also tuning in, the older boys wondering what sort of excuse Harry would muster to appease the temperamental redhead. While quite a few men had tried to court the pretty Lily, James being the most determined, none had been able to withstand her temper.

"Well, it seems that it isn't as difficult to grow as Professor Pod seems to think. The plant took over our dorm room, Sirius was almost force to machete Pettigrew out of his bed."

Lily looked suspicious. She looked down the table, "Remus, did Harry's Herbology project take over your dorm room?"

James took the opportunity to answer, "Sure did, it was the best prank I've seen in a fair while, Not since Sirius flooded the... uh" James was forced to trail off when Sirius coughed meaningfully, his stare hard and demanding.

"It wasn't a prank," Harry argued once again. "I'm telling you, the plant has a mind of its own."

James shook his head proudly, "And so sincere in his denial."

Lily however had nodded softly, "I suppose that would make getting to class difficult," she allowed.

Everyone seemed to stare at her calm acceptance and Lily blinked in a confused manner, finally she tugged on Alice's arm, "I forgot my Defense text," she stated.

Alice shrugged, rising to her feet as well, "I'll accompany you then I suppose." The blonde snagged a cookie from the table before following after the fast clip that Lily was setting.

Ethan and Frank descended upon Harry while the boy was deciding between tarts. The food verity anyway.

"That was quite amazing," Ethan said with an exaggerated tone of awe.

"What was?" Harry asked. He looked up at the two seventh years. The older boys turned to each other and seemed to exchange some sort of silent conversation, they seemed to reach a decision and Frank leaned in to speak.

"About Lily, are you going to ask her to Hogsmeade, she's never listened to any guy like she listens to you." Neville's dad spoke quite seriously.

Harry stopped chewing his lunch, "What..." he managed to say, a little bit of food clogging his speech.

"Lily, are you– "

"No," Harry said with a vehemence that caused the other boys to lean back. Why was Neville's dad forcing Lily on him? The redhead couldn't be taking too much of Alice's time. Frank and she certainly seemed to have plenty of oppurtunities to sneak off.

It was Ethan who answered, "What, she's quite the dish. And I've tried to make the time of day with her, but she's a prickley flower if ever there was one." Ethan continued on but paused when he noticed Harry turning slightly green, "You're not a poof are you?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not that there is anything wrong with that," Frank offered hesitantly.

Harry coughed, Ha, that would make things easy wouldn't it. But than things were never easy for Harry Potter. And, his masculine pride couldn't quite cope with that lie tossed on the pile.

"No," Harry answered, still he couldn't avoid a little chuckle about how much easier it would be to be gay, in this situation at least. "I simply don't like redheads," Harry answered.

Both boys seemed a little confused by this idea.

"What's not to like?" Ethan asked, "Like... not _fat_ redheads?" A few seventh girls from down the table seemed to have overheard and glared at Ethan in a dark way.

Frank seemed to laugh, "Now you're never going to loose your virginity before graduation."

"Ixnay on the iginvay talk eh?"

Harry ignored them, "And I didn't do anything to impress Lily, I only told her the truth."

Ethan grew reflective, "The truth? You can't tell girls the truth. They never react well to that," he said. He rubbed his cheek as if remembering a past experience with a girl and the truth.

"That is why you only tell them the truth that they want to hear," Harry related, taking on a posture reminiscent of Dumbledore. He crossed his fingers wisely and nodded his head, just before taking a bite out of one of the many cookies gathered on his plate.

"Oooh," Ethan said nodding, "I get it, that's smart."

Harry continued looking wise, trying not to laugh.

Frank however raised his eyebrow questioningly, "It's like the blind leading the dumb," he decided gazing at Harry and Ethan wearily.

"What is your type," Ethan asked, ignoring Frank.

"Blondes," Harry answered with a serious nod. "Alice is– "Don't think of Neville in a dress, Don't think of Neville in a dress, "She's smoking hot."

"Yeah, and she's _friendly_," Ethan added with a little wink in Frank's direction.

"Dozy Wanker," Frank cursed, threatening to whap Ethan upside the head.

The other seventh year shied away, "Hey, you heard her, and I am only proud in your choice of women." Ethan slung a friendly arm around his friend's shoulder.

Harry laughed at the expression on Frank's face, one of long suffering annoyance.

"Ah...Mr. Tempus a moment if you please," said a voice from above.

Harry looked up, "Professor Dumbledore," Harry greeted.

"Good afternoon, I was wondering if I might have a little of your time before class?" the headmaster asked.

"Throw in some lemondrops and you have a deal," Harry offered.

The old man smiled, "Indeed, I may have a few."

Harry rose to his feet, trailing after Dumbledore, "See you later," Harry called, "Very important matters to discuss."

The two wizards were seen walking together, exiting into the corridors. Some of those still present began to speculate as to what reasons the transfer might have for speaking with the headmaster. They ranged from the sensible (perhaps some of his grades didn't transfer) to the outlandish (you don't suppose he's Dumbledore's grandson, do you?) For Sirius Black, who was still seated at the Gryffindor table, he merely continued eating, watching the pair leave with a thoughtful expression.

-

"Any trouble Professor?" Harry found himself saying.

The man dug into his pockets removing a small brown paper bag, "No, nothing to worry about," he offered the bag, "Lemon drop."

Harry nodded taking one of the sweets. The pair continued to walk in silence for a moment. The students they passed looked at Dumbledore with some interest. Their headmaster, while never missing a meal, wasn't a common fixture among the halls. Everyone knew that their famous headmaster served many roles to the wizarding world, and that the heads of house did most of the daily management of the school.

"I did need to get your hair, remember, and as your time here in the past is reaching a week in length, I thought it best to speak with you before you vanish into nothing."

Harry nodded, "wouldn't my hair vanish as well," he asked curiously.

"Not once it is removed from your body, as that is the case, it might be best if you began carrying any items you want to return with you on your person."

Harry nodded, he'd already been thinking this himself. Reaching upward he grabbed a bit of his hair and tugged, a few black strands pulled free and he held them out to the headmaster.

"Er, Professor, I hope you don't think me overly paranoid...but...what would be your ideal Christmas gift."

Dumbledore looked a little surprised at the question, "Well...I suppose socks my boy. Can never have enough, although people seem to want to give me books. Were you wondering what to get me for Christmas?"

Harry looked a little sheepish, "Just checking," he answered, handing over the hairs without fear.

Dumbledore seemed to grasp Harry's thoughts, "Yes, indeed. Best to be careful."

"Constant Vigilance," Harry added with a faint grin.

Dumbledore nodded in a fond way, "And now I believe you had best be in class. Better not to miss more than one a day," the headmaster stated, trying to sound weighty.

Harry looked up, realizing that they were standing outside Barten's classroom. Harry merely nodded, not in the least surprised that Dumbledore was aware of any misadventures occurring in his school.

"Harry," Dumbledore called, just as the young man was about to cross the doorway, "About Professor Barten..." the headmaster paused, he twirled his beard absently for a moment.

"Yes Professor?" Harry asked, trying to prod the man back on track.

"Oh yes, it's probably nothing."

Harry watched as the great wizard Albus Dumbledore, swept through the hall at a slight zig-zag pattern, appearing to hum a tune that sounded disturbingly like 'God save the Queen.'

What was that about he wondered before stepping into Barten's class. Why did people always say things like at the ill opportune moments. Sorry folks, there seems to be a mad hatchet murderer loose on the grounds, but it's probably nothing, just stay away from dark alleys. On an unrelated matter, our 'Dark Allys and Places Suitable for a Grisly Death Tour' has just been marked half price. This way if you please. And there was Harry with his ticket already purchased.

Harry shook his head, such thoughts really weren't helping. Not to mention they didn't make sense.

Entering the classroom, Harry found Lily and Alice already present. He snagged a seat behind them, setting down his bag with a thump. Defense class really wasn't something he wanted to do today. The topic matter wasn't precisely his cup of tea, and truth be told, he was much better at the practical areas of Defense and dueling.

Harry gazed out the window as class filled up, James entered looking rather excited. Something Harry found darkly ironic. He decided to not think about it, and he wondered what he could do to take his mind off class. What he wouldn't give to have Ron and a game of hangman at the moment.

"Afternoon class," Barten greeted. He was dressed in wizarding robes again, the material swirled out round his ankles as he strode into the room.

A few students muttered greetings, Harry merely looked out the window.

"Today we will be focusing on the Killing Curse. Some call it the worst among the unforgivables, but that is really a matter of personal opinion. Perhaps its worst characteristic, is that it can't be blocked, thus after we've spent a little time discussing this curse and its history, we'll move on to some elementary dodging techniques, which is really the only thing that can help you should the curse be cast in your direction."

Harry found himself perking up somewhat at that, a chance to get out of his seat was fine by him. Still, as the class dragged on, Harry had a hard time keeping that same level of interest. Barten's history lesson on the Killing Curse was boring and pointless to Harry's mind. Did it really matter the spell was a corruption of a good spell? Barten seemed to think so, he lectured extensively on how the current killing curse had grown out of the Aramaic avra kedabra, which translated as 'I create as I speak', and how, as with all dark magic, it was a perversion of something good.

Harry found himself dozing.

After what seemed like a very long time, Barten finally pushed away from his desk he had been leaning upon, "Alright class," the man announced, "Stand up and move away from your desks."

Harry got to his feet rather quickly. Some of the other students looked a bit nervous.

With a gesture from his wand, Barten sent the student's desks sailing toward the back of class room, where the desks lined up neatly. This provided even more space in te front, with another wand wave, the ground was covered in springy mats. The students walked on them experimentally.

"The first aspect in correct evasion is always a high sense of spatial awareness. This can be difficult when working around multiple attackers, potential allies and space obstructions. "

Some people stared at Barten blankly, Harry found himself, for the first time, paying attention.

"But even knowing that, there are a few simple methods to dodge effectively, in such a way that you can become mobile again. I'll demonstrate some, Mr. Black if you'd lend me a hand."

Barten called Sirius up to the front of the class, not something that seemed to embarrass the young man at all. Harry listened as Barten shared some simple dodging techniques. Tips for rolling, side-stepping, ducking, all the movements aimed to not land you in a postion that would be difficult to get out of. While flashy back-flips and dives looked good, an awkward landing could leave you in more trouble than you started.

Sirius seemed to enjoy his role casting flashing lights at the professor, however the man's superior physical skills seemed too much and none of Sirius's spells landed even a glancing blow. Something that disappointed him, when Barten was finished with his demonstration Sirius moved back to the other students a little sulkily.

"I once saw a man move out of the way of a stunner, and move into the path of a Killing curse."

Barten paused, "Perhaps that should be the first lesson, recognizing the difference between situations where you need to dodge, and situations where you can block the oncoming spells. In combat situations always ready yourself to do either, and respond correctly.

"Break into pairs," Barten said suddenly.

The students quickly moved into groupings. Alice and Lily stood together, James and Sirius also paired up. Remus caught Harry's eye and the time traveler nodded in agreement.

"We are going to start with a simple exercise. One partner will attack, the other with respond. I want the attacker to fire colored lights, red and green, at their partner. Responders, you will have to react to the different colored lights appropriately. If you try to block a green, you're dead. Similarly, if you dodge a red, keep a tally of how many times. We'll play this like muggle baseball, three strikes and you're out, switch roles."

Barten ran through the rules quickly, leaving a few people confused. But Harry found himself rather excited, dodging and blocking was an exercises he practiced in the room of Requirement. It would be nice to try the same sort of thing, but with a live person to work against. Training dummies were all well and good, but the name did have a point.

"Which do you want," Remus asked.

"I'll respond," Harry picked selfishly, egar to get right to work.

Remus nodded, "Alright." For a moment the werewolf didn't seem sure of how to begin, should there be a bow involved as with dueling. Finally with a short nod of his head, Remus lifted his wand.

Harry felt a rush of energy fill him, it was nice to battle against an opponent without the threat of death involved.

With a flick of his wrist, Remus cast a red light, before he could watch Harry counter, the prefect sent a green flash as his opponent. This one he did watch slightly, Harry had responded by dropping to one knee, letting the green light arch over his shoulder. Remus waved his wand, letting loose another succession of colored flashes. The simple charm that allowed different flashing lights was very easy to cast, draining little magic from the wizard using it, thus Remus found himself wielding his wand quicker than he normally would, trying to catch Harry off guard.

Harry spun, enjoying the feeling of losing himself in the exercise. It was somewhat similar to his training, this feeling of nonexistence, as if he wasn't really himself anymore, he simply existed to keep up this rhythm. The different lights were like a cue to a dance. Well, perhaps that was bad example. Harry couldn't dance, but _this_ he could do.

Remus found himself smiling somewhat while he watched Harry move. He had to admit, Harry Tempus was sort of a natural at this. Or so it seemed. The boy moved tightly. Some might say gracefully, but there was nothing really graceful about his movements, they were well timed perhaps, but there was a precision and a contained quality to it. No it wasn't graceful. Just very...sharp.

He also noticed that Tempus was reacting almost perfectly every time, despite Remus's rapid casting he had only dodged one of the red curses. One strike, Remus thought.

But landing another was proving to be difficult. Remus found himself stretching his own abilities to land a hit on the new student.

Harry swept his leg back and dodged a green light that had been fired at his center mass, with the sweep of his wand he blocked a red spell that had been shot at his head. Remus was proving to be an inventive opponent. Harry moved back a hair, allowing a clever side shot to miss him by a few centimeters.

Most of students were growing tired of the exercise, few were attempting seriously. One rather tall Slytherin with a cleft chin sneered that such 'muggle exertions' shouldn't really be a part of the curriculum for a magical school. Of course some students had taken to Barten's training with great excitement. James and Sirius seemed to be having a marvelous time. When Sirius's was the responder, the boy even managed to pull off a rather impressive limbo style duck to avoid one light. It wasn't terribly practical, especially considering James hit him with a green light when he swung back up, but it did look cool. Also the pair's natural competitive streak and love of showing off made them sort of a spectacle for the bored students to watch. This attention forced the pair to even greater heights of foolery, all in attempt to elicit the smiles, laughs and cheers of their classmates. Indeed by the time class was nearing completion almost the entire class had gathered around the two pranksters and were cheering on one or the other.

Professor Barten however was focused on another pair. Harry Tempus and Remus Lupin hadn't changed roles once during the game he'd started. That in itself was odd, this training exercise was actually another he'd pilfered from the ministry's auror training program. And Tempus seemed to be doing quite well.

"That's three," Remus finally said, breathing somewhat heavily.

Harry shrugged, "But I wasn't hit by any of the green ones, that's all that really counts."

Remus seemed to think for a moment, "I suppose you're right."

"Ready?" Harry asked. He raised his own wand, a somewhat devious expression marking his face.

Remus nodded.

"Class dismissed," Barten called.

Everyone seemed to look around for a moment, before glancing at the clock and realizing that class had actually been over for five minutes.

Sirius used the distraction to hit James with a green light.

"Ahhhh, that's cheating," James complained.

"Nothing's cheating," Barten said ominously, James looked a little spooked, not having been aware the professor had been listening to him. "In a real fight, nothing is cheating."

The class nodded a little somberly, before shooting each other amused glances.

"And Tempus," Barten called as everyone began to file out. "Detention, my office after dinner."

"What?" Harry asked, his face twisted with confusion, what had he done to deserve detention. Remus, who had been with him the entire time was equally confused.

"We'll discuss that tonight," Barten said, a grim expression on his face.

Harry nodded distractedly before following his classmates out.

-

It was coming on fall and the sun was setting even earlier. Still, it wasn't what one might call shadowy when Harry walked to Professor Barten's office. The halls were somewhat golden in shade, the sun picking up a honey color to the tone of the stone. Harry would still admit that he was rather confused about why Barten wanted him in his office. Perhaps the time traveler had sort of used up Remus's time in the exercise, but Harry thought, and the prefect had agreed, that time spent trying to hit a difficult target like Harry was also a good learning experience. And he certainly hadn't broken any rules, he'd followed Barten's directions perfectly. Was it his fault that he'd done well enough to not need to switch roles.

Still a part of Harry would admit that he was a little curious about what Barten's office would look like. He'd seen that room under many masters, it had shown Lockheart's ego gratification, Remus's interest in Magical Creatures, Umbridge's disturbing adoration of the color pink and Fudge...although which was more disturbing was difficult to peg.

So he was a little excited to open the door to Barten's room.

And a little disappointed at what he found. Barten apparently liked...shutters. That was all Harry could grasp from the man's nearly sterile office. No nicknacks, no mementoes, no cloves of garlic strung across the wall. It didn't looked lived in at all, even the book shelves were empty. The only thing noteworthy about the room had been the addition of some dark shades that cast the office into an almost artificial night.

Harry knocked, _after_ peeking in of course.

"Professor?" he called, there was no answer. Maybe he wasn't back from dinner?

That seemed unlikely, from what Harry had seen the man rarely ate in the Great Hall. And he was always already present when Harry had come for Sirius's lessons. Still, it probably wouldn't be good to be caught snooping through his office. Harry already had one detention without obvious reason, he didn't really want one for a real transgression.

Still he stood idly in the door for a moment, not quite sure of his next step.

That would prove to be an error.

A sudden force seemed to latch onto him, yanking him off his feet and dragging him into the room. But the 'force' was not so mysterious when Harry spotted a cloaked man, masked, standing inside the room, his wand out and pointed in Harry's direction.

Harry tried to dig his feet into the ground, but his shoes skidded across the wood surface.

His own wand was suddenly in his hand, deciding to ignore the fact that he couldn't stop for the time being, Harry allowed the momentum to bring him closer to the masked man, bringing his wand down in a slicing gesture. He was simply too close to miss.

The figure hissed in pain, it had been a simple stinging hex but at close range it would probably leave a welt. And it had stopped whatever spell the man had been using to bring him closer. It must have been some sort of soundless summoning charm. Harry moved back a few steps, not turning his back on his opponent.

He wasn't quite certain how a simple detention had devolved into a fight...wait what day was it? It wasn't Thursday was it? That would explain so much.

But the today's day was starting not to matter. Harry's opponent had raised his own wand, his masked face didn't express any emotion, but Harry got the sense that the man was evaluating him.

With a subtle whip of the man's wand, a bunch of cords shot towards Harry.

But that was one spell that Harry had experienced before. And any spell that keeps you tied to a statue while a Dark Lord is reborn, well that tends to be the spell you learn to counter.

Harry had found an effective but simple spell, "_Incendio_," he called. The flames licked up the flying cords, burning at a magical rate, in only moments merely ash remained, falling harmlessly at Harry's feet.

"_Diffindo_," a voice other than Harry's stated.

Harry rolled as a severing charm curse flew at his head, he spun with a little more speed than intended and he landed on his knee, one arm bracing his body as the other held his wand steady.

The man raised his wand again, but Harry had waited enough. "Stupefy," he called, letting the red light arch up toward the masked man.

The figure blocked it casually, but Harry was already following up was bludgeoning hex. Once upon his fourth year, he might have followed up with an expelliarmus, his charm of choice. But he'd gradually come to the idea that just because a wizard doesn't have a wand, doesn't mean he can't hurt you . Now an unconscious wizard or a grievously wounded wizard, well that is another kettle of fish.

The wizard hadn't been expecting that curse as much and was forced to jerk sideways, the spell landing instead on an empty shelf. The hex slammed into it with the force of a hammer and the wood shattered, oddly enough making the loudest noise of the encounter. Both Harry and his masked attacker had fought with confidence, both remaining rather quiet throughout the fight.

The masked man however paid little mind to the destruction, he used it instead, banishing the wood in Harry's direction.

Harry batted them away, they weren't flung with enough force to be dangerous, but they were blocking his vision.

The man seemed to have been expecting this, but rather than taking the time to use another curse, he'd gotten closer, his gloved hand coming in contact with Harry's face, slamming his fist into Harry's cheek. The pressure on his face knocked Harry back a bit, but he raised his hand to check for any bleeding and didn't find any. He steadied himself in an instant.

Muggle fighting was perhaps his weakest skill. Taking a hit wasn't a problem, in his muggle days he'd been the one being punched, not doing the punching. And training by yourself in the Room of Requirement can only go so far. For instance, it can't provide you with a karate master capable of teaching you the 'Touch of Death'.

And yes, Harry had asked.

Still he wasn't a slouch in the magic department, in fact he had more than enough magical energy to spare. Harry fired back with a rapid release of spells, his wand moving fast. Powerful spells flowing from him as if they were nothing. A cutting curse, a suffocating charm, a complex power weakening hex, a volley of stunners and, to finish the list, a quiet summoning charm for the man's wand. Expelliarmus was all well and good, but people tended to know what you were planing and could respond accordingly. A simple and quiet summoning charm could at times be more effective. Or so Harry speculated.

But the figure seemed to have been expecting the sudden assault. He moved quickly and efficiently, dodging through the maze of light with a manner of ease. However, something had to get through. One of the stunners clipped the man's elbow, not enough to knock him unconscious, but the spell seemed to make him a little dizzy.

Harry neared for a moment and the man's hands swung out in an arc, clocking him in the head and trying to knock him away. But Harry paid little attention to the blow that should have sent his ears ringing, taking the opening, he sent another bludgeoning hex without thought. This time the man barely managed to move out of the way, Harry sent another blast, missing the man's head but hitting his shoulder with a sound that must be painful.

However the masked figure didn't make a sound. Instead he raised his hand in a peaceful gesture, letting his wand clatter to the floor.

Harry's breathing was heavy, he was ready to finish this, but he paused, summoning the man's wand to his hand, he took a step back. He didn't need another hit to recognize that his opponent enjoyed physical combat.

The man didn't rise, but raised his hand to his hood, grabbing the material at the top of the head, he pulled it down to reveal a face that Harry knew.

"Professor Barten," he said, his voice not allowing any surprise to register. He'd been caught in reaction mode, if he'd been able to think than it would have been obvious that his Defense Professor was the best candidate. After all, that post did seem to have it in for him. How many had attacked him now? But beside that, who else had known that he was going to be here?

"Impressive," the man said rising to his feet.

Harry took another step back. Despite what Barten may think, revealing his identity did not win Harry's trust. If anything it had made him more weary.

"Your skills," Barten explained.

Harry didn't speak.

"I'm sorry if you think this a little out of hand," Barten admitted. "But after seeing you in class today, well I had to fully understand your ability. As I say, impressive. You must have had an interesting education."

Harry still wasn't drawn in by the man, he watched him carefully, keeping a good distance between them, "You think it's a good idea to harm students," Harry inquired with a slight chill to his tone.

"No one was harmed," Barten stated, he seemed to have recognized Harry's reservation. "I set up a neutrality ward, it only lasts for an hour and is beastly complicated. I'm glad this wasn't a waste of my time. No one could be hurt within the ward." He flexed his own arm to show that the forceful bludgeoning curse hadn't seemed to have left any lasting effect. Harry raised his own hand toward his cheek, noticing that his face didn't seem to ache like it should.

Harry continued to show little change of emotion.

Barten didn't seem to mind.

"I hope you know that you're going to have to choose a side Mr. Tempus," Barten said silkily. "Some may be able to cling to the fence and ignore the chaos our world is falling into. But a man with your...talent, won't be able to stay at the wayside." Barten turned his back on Harry and settled at his desk.

"You're excused," he said not bothering to look at Harry as he spoke.

Harry's grasp on Barten's wand was just as strong, and he felt an odd feeling that perhaps he shouldn't return this wand. He had no idea what the man would do with it. What good or evil would Barten do with the tool Harry held. As he stared at the back of the man's head Harry felt an uncomfortable pressure, as if his choice might mean something.

Harry dropped the man's wand to the ground before turning on his heel.

"Choose carefully," Barten's voice finished before Harry closed the door behind him.

-

In the hallways again, the light was just as warm and golden. Barten's office felt like it was in another time. It was impossible to imagine that he had felt the rush of a fight only moments ago. The lack of reason behind the attck left Harry feeling cold. There hadn't been a conclusion and he was no more aware of the intentions of the masked man than he had been when the stranger had first struck. Was Professor Barten's face just another mask? Harry turned towards the Gryffindor Common Room, noting unpleasantly that the edges of his vision were still watching the Defense Professor's door cautiously.

He was certain of only one thing. This bloody sand had better start working again, quick.

A/N: By popular demand I've enabled anonymous reviews. And I'll admit I was very pleased with the reviews the last chapter received. I enjoyed the comments, and those of you who took the time time to write longer reviews, I thank you particularly. I'm trying to stick to a strict schedule of updating, so I'd hesitate to say you'll see another chapter in a week or so. Enjoy.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Waiting Time is Slow Time.

Day: 7 (continued)

Entering the Common Room, Harry finally realized it was Wednesday. He'd once said to Hermione that Wednesdays were days both good and bad, days of choices. And looking at his life those statistics continued to bare out. Hermione had rolled her eyes, lecturing in a tired voice that the day didn't mean anything. Maybe she was right. But Harry still felt as if he had made a choice in returning Barten's wand. Good or Bad? That he didn't know yet.

The Common Room was still crowded as he entered. Harry felt rather tired and looking around among the other people 'his age' he just didn't know what to make of them. Which was pretty much how most of his life had been. Seeing as nothing was new, Harry landed himself in an armchair, wondering how to spend another evening. Normally he'd have found Ron and Hermione and spent the evening listening to them quarrel with each other, which was usually a good enough way to pass the time. Or he might be working on some homework. That wasn't going to happen, not hardly.

"Detention must not have been too bad," Ethan said, sitting down across from him.

Harry shrugged.

"What does Barten do? Because if it's just lines I might not do that essay he set. Who really cares about the cultural climate when Grindelwald rose to power?" The seventh year leaned back in his armchair as he spoke, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin with a thoughtful air that seemed out of place.

"He duels you," Harry answered tiredly.

Ethan blinked. "He duels you? Like a competition...?" Ethan trailed off. "Is that allowed?" he asked.

Harry shrugged again.

Ethan leaned back in his chair. "Well, maybe I'll write the essay then." Harry continued to watch him for a moment, waiting for him to leave. However, Ethan seemed to have no intention of doing so, bobbing his head as if listening to a song. Harry decided to stop watching and just accepted his presence. Perhaps Frank and Alice were 'busy'. Which was a bad mental image indeed.

"Hey Harry," another voice chimed in. "Lily said you had detention, that's rough," Maggie settled on the couch near Harry's chair. Her sister plopped down silently beside her. She seemed a little nervous to meet Harry's eyes and was staring at his chin instead.

"Maggie, Morgan," Harry greeted. Despite their similar faces, both girls were dressed in an opposite manner. Maggie, the more boyish one, wore trousers and a worn looking robe, Morgan's dress was the faintest shade of pink. These sisters seemed determined to be opposites, but it did make it easier to tell them apart; if only the Weasley twins were as considerate.

"Apparently Barten dueled him," Ethan said, drawing the black haired girls' attention to himself.

Maggie opened her eyes wide. "Really? Well that is unique, I suppose. How'd you do?"

"Not too bad," Harry answered. In reality he wasn't certain. Had Barten been going easy on him? It didn't seem like it, but the man was undoubtedly skilled.

"What type of dueler is he?" Maggie prodded. She pulled out her own wand from a holster on her hip and ran it between her fingers as she spoke. Morgan noticed the gesture and seemed to sigh somewhat. Harry had a feeling that he was venturing into one of Maggie's interests. Still, he found himself interested in the conversation.

"More of a physical type I suppose. I think he might have some skill in Muggle boxing." Harry tried to recall the exact moves the man had made. He'd seen a few ninja movies (Dudley was fond of any television program that involved people hitting each other) and the man's moves didn't seem to have that sort of movement. Maybe boxing, and some sort of self-defense thrown in.

Maggie grew thoughtful. "Hmm, really? That's a strange fighting style for a wizard to have." Maggie turned to her sister and seemed to note the other's lack of interest. She smiled and gestured toward Harry, however the quiet girl shook her head slightly and narrowed her lips. The twins didn't seem to really need vocal communication; Harry had seen the Weasley twins converse like this on a number of occasions.

Ethan seemed to notice the lull. "Sort of smart when you think of it that way. How many wizards know hand-to-hand fighting techniques?"

It was an oddly astute comment coming from the seventh year, and Harry nodded his head thoughtfully, wondering once again if there were a way that he could get some physical fighting training once he got back home. Surely Professor Dumbledore knew someone with that sort of skill...even if Voldemort was in a coma, Harry knew that the Dark Lord would be returning far sooner than anyone hoped.

Maggie was also considering Ethan's statement. "You're probably right," she said with a smile.

Ethan inched forward somewhat, tapping his hand on his knee, "Looking forward to Quidditch practice starting again?" he asked.

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, gives me something better to do than homework," she answered.

Ethan shared a look of sincere agreement.

"Harry..." a somewhat timid voice entered the conversation. Morgan paused, her eyes flickering around. "Thank you again...for catching me." She took a breath, for once her gaze meeting his. Her eyes were slightly almond shaped and a deep brown, quite pretty really. Harry did not understand the quiet girl, but he had the feeling that this was a big accomplishment for her.

"Sure," he said kindly. " It's not like I could let you fall. You okay?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded her head rapidly, biting her lip.

"Two cracked ribs," Maggie added. "But Madam Pomfrey stitched her up in a snap." She snapped her fingers to complete the statement.

Harry agreed silently, remembering the witch's skill with his own injuries.

"It was pretty amazing that you managed to catch her," Ethan added. "What sort of broom do you have?"

What sort of broom did he have? He'd simply charmed his Firebolt to look like one of the brooms of this time. He'd seen the picture in one of the Quidditch magazines that James left lying about. Not that he could remember a detail like that now.

"A Comet," he said hopefully. Those were around, right?

Ethan shared a glance with Maggie, both seeming to share a little snicker, "You don't even know do you," Ethan said with a laugh.

"I just forgot the name," Harry argued helplessly. Really, how was he supposed to know the models of brooms that came out in the seventies?!

"And you're on the team and I'm a reserve." Maggie heaved a sigh and shook her head tiredly. "James Potter is a sexist prick."

"You made the team?" Ethan asked sounding a little surprised, "Well, looks like our chances are improving for the cup this year." Ethan tapped his fingers thoughtfully. Harry had the notion that the older boy was considering betting opportunities; the twins' eyes could take on the same gleam from time to time.

Harry turned back to Morgan. "James isn't that bad," Harry said, feeling somehow forced to defend his father's reputation.

"You're a boy, like you would notice," Maggie said snidely.

"Harry's not like that," Morgan injected into the conversation suddenly.

Maggie seemed surprised by her sister's sudden outburst, turning to her questioningly.

Morgan opened her mouth, closed it again and twitched her shoulders. "I have homework," the girl said softly before rising to her feet.

Maggie watched her sister leave, her eyes following Morgan's retreat up to the girl's staircase. She than turned that sharp gaze onto Harry, "I should probably go too," the dark-haired girl said slowly.

Before she could rise, Ethan called after her, "You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Maggie looked a little startled by the question, but shifted into an aloof manner. "I suppose so."

"Maybe while we're there I can buy you a butter beer," Ethan said with a grin that displayed all his teeth. Harry suddenly felt like he had stumbled upon some odd sort of mating ritual.

"Maybe," Maggie allowed, looking away.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe'," Ethan said, he snapped his fingers in her direction, for a purpose Harry couldn't determine.

Maggie's lips fought a smile. "You do that." She turned and moved to the stairway, seemingly aware but not really caring that Ethan was watching her walk away.

The seventh year did a little dance in his chair once she had moved up the stairs. "I tell you mate, I just have to sit next to you and snag the girls that get caught in your pull."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're just really desperate for a shag aren't you," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Of course," Ethan answered without any sort of embarrassment. "But Maggie's a bit of all right; she'd be the sort to take out for a movie and fish and chips. And she's got a twin sister...I know Morgan would probably be against the idea...but there is always the chance." Ethan seemed more than content to enjoy that fantasy for a little bit. Harry almost felt like he was examining a different species, was this what he would be like if he didn't have Voldemort and life and death situations to keep him occupied?

"Yeah, well I'm going to bed," Harry said, leaving Ethan to his daydreams.

"Night," the older boy called with a faint smile.

Harry entered his dormitory, looking around to make certain that the Boa Vine hadn't gone wild again. But the plant was growing quite harmlessly around his bed. Indeed it seemed to follow directions very well: at least something in his life did.

Harry sat on his bed, the dorm was empty, it was still too early for the others to have ventured upstairs.

"_You doing alright up here? Getting enough sun?_" Harry hissed to the plant.

"_Growing_," the plant replied. "_Like Growing._"

"_Yeah I know, but you can't get too big. We, well, us humans have to live here too._" Harry watched as the vine seemed to twine even more elaborately around his bed as he spoke to it.

"_I may be leaving sometime soon,_" he warned the plant. Somehow it seemed only right to let it know that he wouldn't always be here.

"_Where, You go, I go,_" the plant replied.

Harry had never had a dog, his Aunt Petunia would never have allowed one in the house, but speaking to this plant gave him the feeling that he was learning what having one was like. "_I am moving through time so I can't really take you with me_," Harry tried to explain. Looking at the somewhat sentient plant, Harry was starting to feel a little guilty about leaving it.

The vine seemed to rustle unhappily. "_Take me,_" the vine hissed, not seeming to understand the problem. Harry really couldn't blame it. How do you explain time travel to a plant? Even he wasn't quite sure on it.

"_I would if I could but you aren't exactly small enough for me to carry you around in my pocket_," Harry tried to explain.

"_I can be small_," the plant returned. The vine seemed to retract again, wrapping around its pot and trying to look as small as it could.

Harry felt like a world class heel. Which was stupid because he was feeling bad for a plant. The thing just seemed so pitiable. Why did it only grow around Parselmouths anyway?

"_I'd have to put you in a box,_" Harry finally said. "_There won't be any sun._"

The plant seemed to consider this for a moment. "_Yes_," it hissed docilely.

"I tell you, I hear something funny," said a voice coming up the stairs. Harry looked toward the doorway before throwing himself on his bed and grabbing a book that was close at hand. It happened to be his book on the Boa Vine and he glared at the very boring grubby little text.

"Remus, there can't be a gas leak: it's a magical school, no gas...well, except when Peter eats too many apricots."

"Hey," a quieter voice muttered.

The dorm room opened to see the four Marauders pile in. Each boy gave the room a quick sweep and relaxed when seeing that the Boa Vine was still behaving itself.

Remus also spotted Harry. "Did you hear a strange noise up here?" the prefect asked. "Sort of like...a hissing. Air moving, maybe."

Harry's face became puzzled. "No, why?"

Remus shook his head, "I thought I...never mind. What you reading?"

Harry looked down at the little book with a cringe. "It's about the Boa Vine. I wanted to make certain it wouldn't come to life and throttle us in our sleep."

Sirius, who was slouching on his bed, looked over. "Yeah, bit late for that."

"What if we managed to get the plant in the Slytherin Common Room?" James offered. "That would be great."

Sirius seemed to perk up at the opportunity for a prank. "Yeah, that would be good. If we put it near their door, then they wouldn't be able to get out."

Harry didn't like the idea of abandoning the Boa Vine to the House of the Snakes. Odd that Sirius and James weren't considering his opinion on the matter. They were muttering to themselves, no doubt plotting something. Harry felt it necessary to stop this early on.

"It seems to have taken a turn for the worse," Harry pointed out, he gestured toward the plant that now grew tightly around its pot.

"What happened to it? I told Slughorn that it trapped us in our room. He'll never believe me now." Remus settled in his own bed irritably, glaring at the offending plant.

"What classes do we have tomorrow?" Harry asked, trying to draw his roommates' minds away from the plant.

"Transfiguration and double Care of Magical Creatures," Remus answered. He turned to his bed and began pulling books out of his bag, seeming to have let his thoughts return to any schoolwork he needed to do.

"Ah, Remus, what would we do without our walking talking class schedule?" James's voice brought about no reaction from the prefect.

While it was still rather early, Harry closed the curtains around his bed, letting the voices of the Marauders be muffled. Like Remus, he began making his own preparation. It wasn't likely that he'd be in this time much longer. Dumbledore was right: he needed to pack the things he'd need for the journey. He didn't want to risk leaving his invisibility cloak or Firebolt behind. He supposed he wouldn't really be losing them, but he doubted he'd get the things returned to him in their original condition: twenty or so years was quite a bit of time.

"Any luck with your new strategy with Lily?" Sirius asked in a high manner. The sound penetrated his curtains and Harry found himself listening in despite his own belief that he really shouldn't have to put up with this sort of thing.

James seemed to sigh. "Not really. I tried to lend her another book and she accused me of trying to trick her in some way. Made it seem like it was all a plot I'd devised or something."

"Is that why she flung the book at you?" Peter asked. He and Remus had been doing homework at the time and it hadn't seemed polite to ask.

Harry found himself smiling. Yes! He in no way helped his parents get together. They managed it without him: he was not a catalyst for his own birth. He'd been odd enough in his life, was it too much to ask that his own conception be relatively normal?

"I think I'll ask her to Hogsmeade," James suddenly said.

Sirius moaned. Harry agreed.

"James, you are only looking for trouble...just give up on her mate."

Harry wondered what his father's expression looked like at the moment. It was almost tempting to roll back his curtain and have a look, but somehow he felt it was better he didn't really know.

"I'm gonna ask her," James repeated, his tone was blank enough that it made it difficult to interpret.

Harry reached for his wand and cast a silencing charm; he really didn't need to know this sort of thing. He'd wanted to learn new things about his parents, and he felt he had. But perhaps it would just be better to wait out the next few days and try not to get involved.

Harry shrunk the trunk he'd been arranging, promising himself he'd put the Boa Vine in there tomorrow. Slipping into his pajamas Harry crawled under his covers and went to sleep. He hoped he'd be returning soon. Maybe it was like waiting for Christmas: the sooner you went to the sleep the sooner it came. Of course, Harry had never cared for Christmas overmuch: it was merely a day when Vernon and Petunia hoisted gifts on Dudley, sneering in his direction whenever he tried to worm his way into their holiday.

Just before sleep, Harry found his thoughts drifting once again to Professor Barten. He wasn't certain how exactly he was going to handle that situation, but he did know one thing: the man wasn't getting anymore homework from him. Harry had a strict policy of not doing homework for a professor once they had attacked him.

-

Day Eight

-

Thursday dawned bright and cheerfully, much to Harry's annoyance. His dreams had once again been vague and murky. Whether that was his own mind or invading presences, was anyone's guess. But if it was Voldemort, it might explain his sluggishness as he got out of bed.

Remus was busy with his morning entertainment of waking his friends.

"I'd just pour cold water on them mate," Harry said on his way to the bathroom.

But when Harry emerged everyone appeared to be dry, grumbling and sleepy-eyed. They moved about packing their bags for the day. Harry used the distraction to subtly pack the Boa Vine in his trunk and then shrink the trunk to the size of a matchbox. He half expected the miniaturized vine to complain about the treatment, but there was nary a hiss.

"Uhhhh," Sirius groaned. "Transfiguration."

Why this bothered the young man Harry didn't know. Harry had no memory of the previous Transfiguration class, and thus wasn't certain if he had ignored the homework or not. As for Care of Magical Creatures, he vaguely remembered something to do with spiders.

As he left the dorm, heading for breakfast, he found he didn't really care.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Harry started on his breakfast, only looking up when Lily plopped down beside him. The redhead didn't seem to be in a very good mood, her green eyes shooting annoyed glances at something behind her. Harry followed her gaze, landing not so surprisingly enough on James, who had also just entered. Alice wasn't far behind with Frank in tow. The pair had been mysteriously absent thus far this morning. There was a somewhat flushed happy expression on Frank's face. Alice was as calm and collected as ever; still, her eyes drifted to her boyfriend from time to time.

"Well, good morning," Alice said warmly.

"Indeed," Frank agreed.

Lily seemed utterly disgusted by their happiness and rolled her eyes as she bit into a piece of toast. "Perhaps for those who don't have stalkers," she mentioned sourly.

Alice sighed, sitting next to her friend she tried to be sympathetic, "What did James Potter do now?"

"It's just a combination of all he's been doing. It's terribly suspicious. And then today he said he wanted to talk to me in private. If I end up coming to you professing my undying love for the prat you'll know he slipped me some love potion." Lily shot another suspicious look in the Marauder's direction.

Alice nodded her head, "Well, if that happens I'll rush you to Pomfrey."

Harry was considering going to class early so that he didn't have to hear anymore of this conversation. Thankfully, Frank seemed equally bored. The fact the older boy hadn't bothered to defend James left Harry with the feeling that Longbottom had long given up trying. Instead he tuned Lily out and turned to Harry.

"Didn't happen to read about the Puddlemere United game against the Montrose Magpies did you?"

Harry bit into some toast. "No," he replied between bites.

"Quite the game. My dad had tickets, real supporter of the Magpies. Pity really, considering they've got no chance making it to the finals this year."

Harry shrugged, "Well, being a real supporter isn't really about win or lose, eh? And, er, they did really well...not too long ago." Time travel made discussing history tricky, even Quidditch history.

Frank nodded, "That's what my dad says. They were European champs twice when he was younger, I guess." Frank smiled. "'Course for me, ever since the Falcons won the Cup when I was five, well, that sort of thing stays with you."

"Are you boys really going to sit around and talk Quidditch?" Alice asked with an upraised brow.

"Better than sitting around and discussing who's taking who to Hogsmeade."

"That's just a silly superstition," Alice said with an offhand wave, however she paused for a minute. "That doesn't mean we aren't going together."

Frank nodded. "Yes dear," he allowed with a bland smile.

"What sort of superstition?" Harry asked wearily. Harry had once said that he didn't believe in superstitions. To have wound up with his luck, he'd have had to have walked under quite a few ladders, smashed, at the very least, three mirrors and had a black cat cross his path four days out of a given week. Most of that was ridiculous. (He wasn't certain about the mirror thing...that might explain a fair bit.)

Hermione had snorted derisively and pointed out that his own beliefs regarding the days of the week were about as superstitious as it came. Harry had argued that was a completely different matter. Hermione hadn't been convinced and Harry really didn't want to bother convincing her. Still, he had decided to have an open mind.

Lily seemed to heave a sigh. "It's quite silly. It's just that when you're a seventh year, well, the person you take to the first Hogsmeade trip is the person, well, the person you'll end up with."

"Soul mate," Alice supplied.

Lily glared at her friend. "Yes, well if you want to put it that way."

"I do," Alice agreed, smiling fondly at Frank.

Harry was glad he hadn't heard of this back home, maybe it wasn't around anymore. If if did he wasn't looking forward to his seventh year, Merlin only knew how many invitations he'd get.

"Well that's ruddy wonderful." He muttered, glaring at his porridge.

But on the bright side, Voldemort could have killed him by then.

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face as the others were watching him with amused smiles. "I'm going to class," he decided. The others watched blankly as he rose to his feet and exited.

"Sort of strange, that one," Alice offered absently.

"There's nothing wrong with him," Lily defended.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "Seemed normal enough to me."

"You wouldn't notice," Alice decided, patting Frank in a manner that had the seventh year raising an eyebrow.

"I think he's quite sensible," the redhead argued. "Most of the time," she amended.

Alice shrugged, "I suppose," she relented, "He's probably just worried that Hortense is going to drag him to the village with her, just on the off chance that the spell– "

"Superstition," Lily interrupted with a hiss.

"Whatever," Alice dismissed. "Just on the chance it takes effect a year early."

-

Transfiguration class was, once again, very boring. It wasn't actually McGonagall's fault, the woman was simply too organized for her own good. No doubt she'd been using the same lesson plan for the thirty odd years she'd taught at Hogwarts. She'd probably inserted some new material here and there, but in general, the theory behind Transfiguration didn't change much. One thing becomes another, not too complicated eh? He was rather glad that McGonagall couldn't read minds, she'd be fuming at that one.

Harry found himself once again sitting through a lesson he'd already heard. The practice was just as easy and Harry found himself dozing through most of the class. He was starting to wonder why he bothered sleeping: he could stay up all night and just nap his way through the day.

Of course he shouldn't have assumed that his inattentiveness had gone unnoticed.

"Mr. Tempus, a moment if you please," McGonagall stopped him as he went by. "I will provide a pass for your next class."

Harry didn't actually have another class, just a little free time before lunch and then Care of Magical Creatures. He felt that the lack of an imposing schedule was really hurting him at this point. How long would McGonagall keep him to lecture about proper classroom behavior?

"Er, sure professor." Harry stood uncomfortably before his head of house's desk while the other students shuffled out of the classroom. Remus and Lily no doubt had Ancient Runes or some other such academic type of thing to go to. Harry watched them almost longingly. Almost.

Once the class was empty Harry did the only thing he could, deciding to circumvent the storm. "I'm sorry I haven't been paying close enough attention in class, I'll do my best to improve in the future." He added a concerned look to finish off the statement.

McGonagall seemed to pause for a moment before settling in her chair. "That isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. But I'm glad you are thinking on it." Her gaze was a trifle chilly, but it warmed a bit as she watched him shift before her. "Still, your classwork has been top rate. I can only assume that your previous professor was a skilled teacher."

Harry tried to hide a smile. "Yes, she was very talented."

"Good. Now, what I wished to discuss with you. You are aware that this coming weekend, Saturday to be precise, the older students are allowed to go to the wizarding village of Hogsmeade."

Harry nodded, wondering where this was going.

"I will need your parent or guardian to sign this form to allow you to go," McGonagall said quite simply, brandishing a white parchment paper in his direction.

Harry looked at the piece of paper pressing his lips thinly to avoid a smile. "That may be a bit of a problem," Harry said slowly.

McGonagall arched one of her thin eyebrows, "And what exactly is the problem, Mr. Tempus?"

"Well," Harry began with a somber tone. "My guardians are a...well, quite a distance away, I don't think it would be possible to get the form to them before Saturday."

McGonagall looked at him sternly. "Then I'm afraid that you will not be able to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. If you get the form signed you will be able to attend the next, some time in early December." McGonagall clearly looked ready for a fight, she crossed her arms, her chin was slightly raised. She surveyed Harry with a somewhat weary expression.

Harry couldn't contain a smile. "Thanks professor, that really helps me out," he nodded, trying to remember forever her gobsmacked expression. "I won't need a pass," he said, before turning and walking away.

McGonagall quickly composed herself, watching with some interest, and the barest of smiles on her lips as the transfer student walked from her class humming. He was a curious individual. And she found herself becoming a little more curious about who exactly he was. She'd originally planned to send the permission form directly to his guardians, only to find the school records woefully uninformed when it came to Harry Tempus. It seemed almost as if the boy had sprung from thin air. When she'd brought up the little complication with Dumbledore, the headmaster had been more confusing than ever, remarking that he was certain that 'eventually' the records would be complete. He seemed to chuckle at her problem of locating the boy's guardians, almost in the same manner that Tempus himself had. Minerva McGonagall was fairly certain that something was underfoot, some sort of plot shared between Tempus and the Headmaster.

McGonagall reached into her desk and pulled a biscuit from a tartan tin. She was fairly certain that whatever it was, she didn't want to know.

-

Lunch came and went as lunch usually does. Harry ended up in another Quidditch conversation with Ethan and the former-seeker for Gryffindor, Tobias Crane. (Harry didn't know if James had shared the bad news yet, either way, Crane seemed to be an agreeable bloke. Barmy about Quidditch, but then who wasn't.) It was more a conversation of strategy, not team stats, so Harry had an easier time keeping up. The one good thing about Quidditch conversations, despite their natural enjoyableness, was that Alice's dislike of them kept her and Lily away. Which protected Harry from a discussion he probably wasn't interested in.

Of course before lunch was over, Harry had to relate the bad news to everyone.

"You can't go to Hogsmeade? Oi, that's terrible, mate," Ethan commiserated knocking his knuckles on the table to show his displeasure.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It's a real shame, and I was so looking forward to it." Harry's expression was spot on, however inside he was feeling quite differently. Not having to go to Hogsmeade meant a day to loll about the castle, not having to worry about the ghosts of the past popping up and disrupting the quiet. Not going to Hogsmeade gave him a plausible reason to avoid conversations anyone might have about who was going with who and what not.

"Where are your guardians anyway, if an owl can't reach them before then?" Tobias asked.

"China," Harry pronounced seriously.

"I thought your relatives were Muggles, mate?" Ethan asked, right before taking a large bite out of a sandwich.

"Muggles can go to China too," Harry argued.

Ethan shrugged. "Guess so. What are they doing in China?"

"They went there to learn how to build a wall, they have a pretty big one there apparently," Harry answered, again his face quite serious.

Crane, who was a pure-blood, just nodded; Ethan spared Harry an incredulous glance.

When lunch had ended, Harry headed down to Care of Magical Creatures. James and Sirius had already left for some reason or another, probably none of it good, but Remus was hanging behind slightly. Harry didn't need a guide to get around, but ever since he had claimed to have gotten lost, Harry noted the prefect watching him a little more closely. If that was his punishment for lying, well, so be it. The two fell into step together, neither saying much. It wasn't until they reached the grounds that Remus spoke up.

"What do you suppose Kettleburn will cover today?" the werewolf asked.

Harry looked thoughtful. "I don't know. Should be interestin'," he added with a slight smile.

"Do you know Hagrid?" Remus asked, sharply picking up on Harry's slight mimicry.

Drat, Harry remembered, Hagrid was probably groundskeeper in this time already. Strange he hadn't noticed the man about...very strange considering he towered over most of the staff. Best to play dumb.

Harry put on his best Gregory Goyle expression. "No, who might he be?"

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "He's the keeper of the keys and grounds of Hogwarts, but he hasn't been around yet this year. Sirius and James have been wondering where he's been, he never gives them too strict of detentions. But I suppose you couldn't know him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Kettleburn was already pacing about the class when they arrived. The short man was holding an odd crooked stick in one hand, a bucket of ice in the other. He set the bucket down, but the stick stayed in his hands, which he leaned against like a staff. Harry noted that the hand with three fingers seemed to be sporting a fresh bandage, tightly binding the hand into a white mitten. But it didn't seem to have lessened the professor's enthusiasm any. He smiled warmly when he noticed the last of the students joining.

James and Sirius were the last to arrive, they raced down from the school with winded but excited faces.

"What kept you?" Remus asked.

The pair shrugged his question aside, turning to the professor instead.

"Gather, gather," Kettleburn instructed, waving at them with his injured hand. Harry once again noted the larger class size. He spotted Morgan and Maggie down front, and remembered wondering about them last class. Now he smiled in a polite way when he spotted them.

No one seemed daunted after their previous magical creature lesson. Most were watching the metal box behind Kettleburn with some interest. And with good reason. The top was a metal grate rather than solid steel. Smoke seeped from it, creating an ominous appearance.

"Now today we'll be dealing with a tricky thing. I can't promise you'll be seeing much, but I'll give you a solid lecture, and if we get lucky we may see something special. And I'll be making Professor Slughorn very happy."

Harry, along with the rest of his classmates, smiled, waiting for Kettleburn to lift up the box and show them what they were working on today.

"Maybe it's a dragon?" someone whispered. Kettleburn seemed to note their excitement, smiling before lifting his wand, levitating the metal crate a few feet away.

It was, to say the least, disappointing.

The class gazed for some moments at what appeared to be a perfectly normal campfire. Well, normal in the wizarding sense. The slight green tinge to the end of the flames as well as an increased heat output hinted that the fire was more magical than Muggle in nature. Still, it wasn't exactly what they had been expecting. The students looked around, sharing glances with each other.

"We're very lucky to have found one," Kettleburn said, circling the fire. He seemed to be determined to keep a good distance away.

"Er? Professor?" one tall Hufflepuff posed speculatively. "What is that?"

Kettleburn seemed to snap out of his daze. "There is an Ashwinder in there," he said, his brown eyes opening wide. "Keep back a bit; if it lays an egg we've got to cool it down fast or it will set the grass alight." The professor continued circling about the flames, watching it carefully.

At that announcement, the other students began looking a little closer at the magical fire.

"Acromantuala, Ashwinder...you don't suppose he's going in alphabetical order do you?" Remus was speaking to James with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"It moved," one student said with a gasp to her voice.

"Where?" some others joined in. Soon, despite the heat rolling off the flames, the class was moving closer.

A tall girl from Ravenclaw raised her hand and pointed into the center of the flames. It took a moment, but soon the others could see the slender outline buried deep within the heart of the blaze.

"An Ashwinder has a very short life span," Kettleburn beginning the lecture. "Usually no more than a year even if they die of natural causes. Most don't even last that because the fires they live in are usually extinguished. They spend most of their lives in magical fires, providing they maintain a certain temperature, somewhere over 1300 °C. Because of their color and small size, they are often difficult to see, unless you happen to meet its ruby gaze. On its own, the Ashwinder isn't terribly dangerous. It can't exist for long outside the heat of its fire. If you should encounter one, they aren't poisonous but can burn you. Touching an Ashwinder can result in third degree burns." He rubbed his own bandaged hand warily.

"However the eggs of the Ashwinder are perhaps even more dangerous. An Ashwinder may only ever leave its fire to lay an egg. If not recognized soon, the egg will burst into a flame, sometimes over 2000°C, and is nearly impossible to put out. As Ashwinders live in fire, these burning eggs create an environment for the young, who in turn will lay another egg and spread another fire. In Africa during 56 B.C., one Ashwinder spawned a fire that consumed the western half of the continent, destroying the magical civilization there and giving rise to the lush jungles that populate the region today."

Harry found himself paying some attention; he'd never studied this before. His gaze fixed on the fire as Kettleburn spoke. It was difficult to see, but hidden within the coals a small grayish serpent coiled harmlessly. It looked almost dead among licking flames. But its head lifted gracefully, sweeping a glance at the class.

Everyone seemed to take a breath when its eyes, and indeed they were ruby, seemed to glint dangerously among the heat.

Harry was trying to ignore the spluttering hissing coming from the fire. Among the crackle of the fire burning, it was difficult to really understand anyway. All he could make out was a steady flow of insults and profanity.

"_Sstupid Cold Assssh Excrement, Thinkss He knowsss._"

Harry bit his tongue, it was sort of hard not to see the Ashwinder's point. He could remember the professor's errors regarding the Acromantula last time, was he off now as well?

"The eggs of an Ashwinder, while very dangerous, are considered essential to many difficult potions. Of course the trick is to find the eggs almost immediately after they are laid, otherwise the dangerous fires they create make it almost impossible to get them. I've been watching this beauty for Professor Slughorn."

The Ashwinder seemed aware of man's intentions. If the language was any indication.

"_Cold_ _unnatural limbed monsssters, Thieving Flesssh Beastsss_," The snake continued on its litany of insults.

Harry found himself fighting laughter at some of the inventive invectives. Kettleburn continued speaking about the properties of Ashwinder eggs as the class milled around. Everyone seemed to be keeping a good distance this time, and Harry doubted he'd have to worry so much about Sirius.

Of course, Harry was starting to wonder whether someone was out to get him. Besides Voldemort and Deatheaters and such; no more like some sort of fate conspiring against him. A Parseltongue plant, now a profane snake in class. Was there some figure looming out there wanting to expose him? Harry was aware that it was Thursday, and so he chose, quite wisely, to keep his mouth shut.

The class finally broke up with Kettleburn still circling the fire. The Ashwinder hadn't laid an egg yet, but the friendly professor seemed to believe that it would be anytime now. Harry climbed back up to the castle trailing behind the Marauders, feeling quite cocky actually, having managed to avoid whatever embarrassment fate had in store.

Indeed, for a Thursday, everything seemed to be going smoothly. He hadn't been attacked by anything, he hadn't been revealed as a Parselmouth, nothing had tried to eat him. Really, everything was turning out rather nice indeed. Dinner was a casual affair, Harry managed to snag a fine raspberry tart as well as the last of some pudding...and some shepherd's pie, with Remus looking on.

Consolation was passed around as his acquaintances in this time learned that Harry wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade. No one offered to stay behind with him, but then that was something you expected of true friends, and Harry was rather glad that he didn't have any of those here. Of course Hortense was concerned that he get his permission form signed for the next Hogsmeade weekend. Knowing that he would no doubt be leaving soon allowed Harry to smile warmly at the pushy girl and promise to send the form to his guardians post haste.

Harry did get the feeling that Thursday was proving disastrous for others. Basing his observations on Lily and James's frank avoidance of each other, he guessed that James had managed to ask Lily out and she had once again turned him down. The pair were separated from each other by quite a distance, something both seemed desirous of. James also seemed to be extremely annoyed with Sirius. The handsome pure-blood didn't look as if he'd be spending his time in Hogsmeade alone. Black was chatting up a busty blonde from Hufflepuff, and making a good deal of progress by the look of it, much to his best mate's chagrin.

Thankfully he wasn't sitting in the direct line of any of that drama, so he ate his desserts contentedly. With dinner easily passed, Harry snuck off to the Room of Requirement for a few hours training. His magic was behaving itself fairly well during this vacation; one outburst, and a mild one at that, gave him practically a clean record. Still he didn't want to slip out of practice, not with confusing defense professors wandering about. He still hadn't come to a decision regarding that matter. He'd decided to keep a mindful eye, that is if he ever saw the man outside of his class or office. The professor never even came to dinner. Still, whatever the reason, a little more 'Constant Vigilance' wouldn't hurt.

When Harry finally made it to bed, he felt he'd escaped Thursday unscathed, and was feeling very relaxed when a hand landed on his shoulder. Looking behind him Harry spotted James with a very serious expression on his face, an expression not often seen there.

"Sirius and I spoke with Barten today. We're going to have another one of those lessons tomorrow night." James seemed to be in a sour mood as he spoke.

Harry ignored the tone. "He told you then?" he asked.

James didn't need the 'he' clarified, nodding he replied "Stupid wanker, don't know why he bothered to hide it. I'd figure I'd join too. You know, moral support and all."

Harry glanced at him over his shoulder while packing his things in his trunk.

"Yeah well, I want to learn too," James amended. "It would probably help in becoming an auror."

"You want to be an auror, eh?" Harry asked, honestly curious. The Durselys had always said that his father was unemployed. And for once they were right. In the strictest sense, James Potter didn't have a job, not when he died and not before. The Potter family's fortune easily supported James and his wife modestly. From what Harry had learned the pair had spent much of their time before he was born working for Dumbledore and his Order. There had been the occasional odd job here and there, often times with more relevance than might be readily apparent. And then when he was born, and the prophecy came to light, protecting themselves and their child became their job.

But Harry had wondered about his father's dreams.

"I'd have thought professional Quidditch," he offered, probing for more information.

James grew reflective, tugging on the sleeve of his white collared shirt. "Well, that might be nice, if things weren't they way they are. With this war, well, being an auror would be more exciting than playing Quidditch." James's hazel eyes flashed, and he smiled before striking a pose that Harry supposed received accolade. James expected praise, but Harry could only shrug.

James eagerly anticipated battle, felt proud in his nobility. Not that each fight didn't bring Harry a surge of adrenalin. Sometimes those memories seemed brighter, sharper, clearer--those were times he'd never forget. But it was impossible for him to really look forward to it, it was the sort of thing that only someone who hadn't experienced it could glorify. Standing before what could very well be your death, with only a wand and your wits...it really wasn't what James Potter thought it was going to be.

Harry's silence seemed to strike James as odd, or perhaps just unexpected.

"I figure I have to do my part for the right side of this thing," he continued, once again finding himself very courageous.

"James," Harry said softly. He bit his lip, not certain what he could say.

"Yeah," James asked, his face preparing for praise.

"That's the stupidest thing in the world."

James spluttered. "What?" he managed to say, a little too stunned to be mad yet.

"It's not about doing anything heroic. It isn't really even doing what people think is right. Its doing what lets you sleep at the end of the day." Harry leaned against his bedpost, finding himself unable to turn around and look at his father's face.

"Just don't tell me you did it because you wanted people to think you were brave?" Harry didn't know why he said that.

"I'm– what are you on about Tempus," James demanded, ruffling his hair. "We've all got to do our part against this thing."

Harry nodded, not minding the other's boy's irritated tone. Maybe James's reasons would change, maybe they wouldn't. Time would do what it wanted.

Either way, Harry found that he fell asleep quite easily.

-

Harry dreamed. And in his dream he felt his strength growing again. He felt as if the shackles on his body were releasing. He was starting to remember who he was again, starting to leave this wretched blackness. It was an emptiness that seemed horribly familiar, the brief snatches of noise and light were restoring his sense of self, and growing more frequent. He was still bound, still locked away, but the keys were turning. Why this was happening, he himself could not say. He was remembering enough to know that perhaps this shouldn't be happening. But that seemed to reek of self doubt, an emotion he'd sworn never to have. He could wait, and do it with more patience than most would think him to have. But it would happen soon, and with it the taste of victory would be near.

-

Harry pulled himself from an odd dream. His hand fiddled with his night stand, it was rather empty now that the Boa Vine wasn't there. Bringing his watch right under his nose, he peered at the face.

He's forgotten it was still dark. Light might be helpful about now.

Thankfully his wand was close at hand, still strapped to his forearm. He muttered a lumos charm, letting the faint glare of the spell display the dials on his watch. It wasn't after midnight yet. Still Thursday. Why did he have a feeling that such a weird dream was bad news?

-

Day Nine (The Day after Thursday)

-

It was Friday, and with a Hogsmeade trip the next day the students of Hogwarts were in a good mood. Well, most everyone. Harry seemed to be different yet again. The odd dream that had awoken him before midnight wouldn't seem to leave him. Still the more he thought about it, the more the dream seemed to become more indecipherable, becoming only fleeting emotions and feelings. He tried to cast it aside at breakfast, but it seemed to cling to him almost in a tangible manner.

"Isn't it lovely out," Alice said. She was without Frank for once, and Lily was settling a dispute among some fourth year girls.

"Meh," Harry grunted. He pushed aside some porridge with a spoon, not wanting to eat it but feeling too lazy to get something else.

"Aren't you chipper?" Alice offered, helping herself to her own breakfast.

Harry continued digging through his porridge. Alice watched him while she munched on some toast with marmalade.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"Muh," Harry muttered, nodding and shrugging at the same time.

Alice seemed to nod knowingly. "Was it Sirius? Because I could really picture him sneaking up on you in the middle of the night; the boy has more hormones than is healthy."

"What?" Harry asked, introducing his first coherent word of the day. "What are you talking about?"

Alice reached out and patted his hand gently, "It's alright, just remind him no means no and a polite kick in the crotch isn't out of line."

"You have some disturbing notions about what goes on in a boys dormitory," Harry said. He eyed the girl across from him, not quite knowing how Neville could look so much like her and then not actually resemble her character at all.

Ethan and Frank joined them. "What are we talking about?" Ethan asked.

"Frank's girlfriend's disturbing mind," Harry related.

Frank seemed to nod understandingly before stilling from a rather cool glance from said girlfriend.

"Like you don't think that girls have pillow fights in their panties and practice French kissing," Alice said.

Harry was beginning to see where Neville's character came from, as Frank turned a hideous shade of red and gulped down some orange juice too quickly.

"You do," Ethan said firmly. "You do and there is no room for argument."

-

Despite the somewhat ominous dream, Harry was starting to feel a little better. Friday was turning out to be a rather uneventful day. Potions was cut short; no practical, just a short lecture on some of the topics they had already covered. Apparently Slughorn had a potion he was brewing that was taking all his attention, not that Harry minded much: the lack of class allowed him a few hours to sleep before having to go to Charms.

Charms was hardly worth the effort of getting up. Once again, it wasn't Flitwick's fault, the small professor was simply teaching a lesson that Harry had already learned.

The lack of anything to do did allowed Harry to think about the other lesson he had tonight. It wasn't really in his nature to worry about little things. Not any more: a few attempts on your life and the little worries tend to matter less and less. Still, he didn't think it was untoward to have a little anxiety before this evening's lesson. Not only would he be assisting his father now as well, but he would once again be meeting Barten, a man whose motives were still unclear.

Harry had a hard time believing the man to be a Death Eater. It wasn't anything concrete, just a feeling. The man seemed to lack some of the earmarks of his favorite pure-blooded minions. Barten's fondness for Muggle clothing, and the man's Muggle fighting style just didn't seem to match what be knew about their bigotry. All the same, he was a dangerous character, and it wouldn't be the first time that Voldemort hid his works in an unassuming guise.

"Mr. Tempus?" Flintwick called. Harry looked up shocked to the see the diminutive professor peering up at him, his hands resting on Harry's desk.

"Er, yes sir?" Harry wondered hesitantly.

"Class is over Mr. Tempus," the Charms professor reminded him in a cheerful voice.

Harry looked around a little bewildered. The classroom was entirely empty, how had he missed that? "Sorry sir," he apologized, although he didn't know why.

"Not to worry, my boy," Flitwick said kindly, patting Harry's arm as one would a puppy. "I imagine you have a lot on your mind."

There was a somewhat all-knowing tone to Flintwick's voice; Harry really didn't want to know if he knew anything or not. He nodded to his professor, before quickly walking away. Friday was seeming very long...well, at least he had his lesson with Barten tonight to look forward to.

-

Harry found himself waiting outside of Barten's classroom this time. His hesitance in the past had involved some embarrassment, for reasons such as throwing the man across the room and walking out on his class. But that had not been quite enough reason for him to avoid the man before. However, being attacked by the professor made him consider the benefit of witnesses.

James and Sirius were still at dinner, an event Harry had endured briefly. Talk of the Hogsmeade weekend seemed to be the main focus of the meal. As he wasn't doing any of the talking Harry ate his way through a piece of chocolate cake and treacle tart...as well as some potatoes and a smidgeon of stew. He decided to leave when conversation turned to who was going with whom, mostly in fear that the discussion could turn even more petty. He didn't think it possible, but he'd been proven wrong in the past. Or the future, depending on your frame of reference.

"Not coming in?" a voice asked him speculatively.

Harry looked up from the spot on the floor he'd been looking at. "I'm actually fine here, sir," he provided.

"You're a Gryffindor, I'd expect a different response."

"Yeah, well, I'm different sort of Gryffindor," Harry stated simply.

Barten moved so that he stood in the doorway to his classroom, the molding of the door shaded his face. Harry thought it was a little over dramatic.

"You are interesting," Barten answered.

"Back at you," Harry replied.

The silence between them wasn't exactly comfortable; to have that you have to have some sort of trust between people. But it wasn't awkward either: neither character was capable of false posturing, thus they found themselves at an odd impasse.

"Do much Muggle fighting?" Barten asked suddenly, still managing a conversational manner.

Harry shook his head. "Afraid not."

"I find it's a nice addition," the defense professor commented.

"Do aurors do much in that way of training," Harry found himself asking. He'd been curious. Ethan did have a point earlier: it wasn't often that you saw wizards exchanging blows. And if it did appear, it was usually Muggleborns like Hermione wiping the floor with spoiled brats like Malfoy.

"No," Barten answered. "It's not 'proper training procedure'," Barten recited with a casual flick of his chin length hair. "More work with speedy wand work, some effort towards dodging accurately."

"Why did you take that route, when I was distracted with the book cases you could have sent a spell," Harry asked. He found himself referring to their fight in a clinical manner, evaluating the exchange as if from a different vantage point.

"That would be expected. A few blows and most wizards loose a grip on their wand. Loose hands make better targets."

Harry agreed silently.

"Not you though," Barten said, watching the boy carefully.

Harry once again became aware of the man's sharp eyes, he felt himself retreating more into himself.

"Well hello, Professors," a new voice interrupted.

Oddly a very accurate statement.

Harry looked over, he hadn't heard James of Sirius approaching. That might have something to do with the portrait that was sliding back into place. The pair knew Hogwarts's secret passageways better than anyone Harry had ever met, excluding perhaps the Weasley twins.

"Professors?" Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow in the other's direction.

"Yeah, well, you're teaching us too, eh?" James added. He moved into the classroom, passing the defense professor, not seeming to note the oddness of the other's location. Sirius was looking a little curious about the odd grouping, but followed James inside. Harry couldn't help but note that Sirius seemed a little more relaxed this time. Their previous lesson had been an undeniable failure, but he had a little hope that this one might be better.

Once inside, Harry quickly repeated for James his advice on how to beat the Imperius Curse.

"Argue with the voice in my head. Eh, sounds a little barmy, but, well, you're the professor here." James was still dressed in his full school uniform, but he removed the black robe and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he seemed to brace himself.

Sirius raised his eyes as the motion, "It's mental mate," he said.

"I know. Crazy eh?" James grinned.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Why are you looking like you're ready to duel? It's all in your head."

James shrugged. "Yeah well, going to have an Unforgivable cast at me. Got to be ready."

"Be thankful it's only the Imperious," Barten warned. He was leaning against his desk, still dressed in a long blue robe, managing to look somewhat eerie.

"Er, right you are professor," James agreed with a weak smile. "Uh, take your best shot, eh?"

Barten raise his wand, looking somewhat bored. "_Imperio._"

In less than five seconds, James was moving about the room clucking like a chicken.

Harry tried to contain his laughter. Really, Moody's little lecture about complete control was still in his mind. But seeing his father like this...maybe it was good that James Potter hadn't been the one to raise him, he'd have lost any amount of respect at this point.

James shook his head as the spell wore off. He looked at Sirius and Harry in an annoyed way, "As if you'd do any better," he muttered.

"Let's see," Barten said, he turned his wand. "_Imperio_."

But the spell didn't fly in Sirius's direction: it hit Harry with a surprising accuracy. The feeling of peace came on heavy. Harry's magic was a little more stable today, but despite that the rush of power buried within him seemed to roar in anger.

_Cluck like a chicken._

"You must be joking," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, ignoring the voice in his head. His tone had gone chilly. "At the very least be inventive," he advised.

"Just checking," Barten said. Still his eyes were a tad too probing, and Harry found himself breaking the curse with a vengeance, causing the man to stagger back from the force.

"Er, don't we already know he can break it?" James questioned.

"Yeah," Sirius argued, finding himself agreeing with James more out of habit than anything else.

"Forgive me," Barten said, taking a breath and stepping away from Harry, although who the man was speaking to was up for debate.

Once again Sirius was run through his paces. Harry might be feeling too optimistic, but he had the vague feeling that Sirius was doing better than he had the previous time. His response was not anymore slowed, he still eventually submitted to whatever Barten ordered, but Harry thought there was something in his eyes that spoke to his strength. Maybe having James there helped, if only for the added pressure to succeed.

Not that James was providing much competition. Harry had to hand it to his Dad, he seemed to be able to fail time and again and not get down about it. But he was improving some: his first attempt in class had produced almost an immediate obedience. He was fighting it , if only very slowly. Maybe with more lessons with Barten, James wouldn't be bound by this spell's sway.

Harry watched as once again the spell was cast in Sirius's direction. Black stood there for a few moments, before, strangely enough, he coughed.

Harry looked to Barten. Was the man asking him to cough? But Barten looked just as intrigued. The man seemed to double his efforts. Sirius coughed again, this time more loudly. Perhaps there was a trace of coherence amidst that sound, but nothing Harry could understand.

Barten let the spell drop. "Good work, Mr. Black. Finally some success."

James moved to his friend and slapped him on the back. "Good job, mate. Most Aurors can't even do that." James spared a glance for the former auror and current defense professor.

"Indeed, you are right, Mr. Potter," Barten agreed. "You've made the first step today. Next lesson we'll work on having you beat it completely. And you, Potter, you come again as well."

Both Harry and James nodded absently at this comment.

"We're done?" Sirius asked. He still hadn't commented on his victory, looked almost dazed at the result.

"For today, I have other work Mr. Black." Barten wasted no time in hurrying them out of his classroom, closing the door behind them with a snap.

Harry had been shuffled out with the other students, not that he'd actually wanted more time with the defense professor. He found himself falling into step with James and Sirius. James was moving about at a hurried pace, turning so that he could walk backwards and face Sirius.

"Hard to believe you managed it, eh mate," James said.

Sirius nodded, "I didn't, not all the way." Still, Harry could tell that Sirius was on the verge of celebrating. The young man couldn't seem to believe that he'd done it. Voicing this concern aloud he said, "What if the next time he casts it, I can't break it at all. What if it goes back to being the way it was...?"

"And what if the roof to the dorm caves in? Gessh, snap out of it will you? You did something even Barten can't do." James prodded his friend's shoulder.

Sirius finally smiled, his lips quirking into an expression Harry hadn't seen much. "Yeah, you're right, I'm pretty great, eh?"

James swung an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Well, you're at least the second greatest guy roaming these halls."

"No need to ask who's first," Harry muttered lightly.

Sirius caught the words and seeming to notice that Harry was trailing along behind them, he paused for a moment. "What do you think, Tempus?" he asked.

Harry found the inclusion odd. "Well, it seems like you tried to do and not do what Barten was telling you. Which is what I did first; a few more times and I had it down. I think the same will be for you."

"Well, Harry," James entered in, "Black has a slower learning curve, we might have to allow a few more lessons."

"Hey," Sirius complained, batting at James's head. The Quidditch star ducked, his face grinning.

They walked through the halls for a moment more. Harry found it odd that he was among them, and not really in the sense that they were dead and that he was from the future. No, perhaps just on another level he was interested in how he was almost fitting into their world. He'd never have expected to, but there was something about their camaraderie that left him feeling peaceful, if not a bit nostalgic. He almost wondered what would happen, if he really were Harry Tempus and what the years would hold if this was his home and this was his place. It was foolish to think on this, of course. But he knew it was unavoidable, now that he had met them and found a place for himself amid their lives.

"That Barten is an odd bugger, eh?" James questioned. "You don't think he's a little like a vampire do you? He's always sneaking up on me."

"He vants to drink your blood," Sirius said, leaping at James and nearly latching onto his neck.

Harry grinned at the James tried to fight off an advancing Sirius. Harry knew this was a moment that Alice would have loved, it would have certainly been proof that her fantasies had some validity. If only he had a camera.

Now that was an idea.

-

-

A/N: Big Thanks to MeShelly. Calling her a beta would be inaccurate, as it seems to imply a secondary position. Her help in this chapter has been invaluable, not only making this better for you to read, but also giving me the motivation to get this chapter finished and updated. Much thanks to her critical eye, and as usual any mistakes are mine.

Thanks again to all my reviewers. I was again astounded by the response. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic. I hope to continue writing a story you'll enjoy.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: What Never Comes Early or Late

Day: Ten (Even Number)

-

Finding a magical camera was actually a difficult proposition; Harry would not know this. Having a Creevy brother always about, ever eager to snap a picture, or two hundred, had made him unaware that managing to have a magical camera might be difficult.

Because Harry wanted one snapshot to remember his historical field trip by.

It was perhaps a silly thing to want. In fact, Harry knew it was, but the idea had latched onto him and he knew he didn't want to leave until he'd managed to snag a Potter family portrait, as it were. It was the sort of thing that hadn't happened in fifteen years, it would be a picture where Harry was more than a chubby baby face with black hair and green eyes. To have something like that, not many people could understand how precious that was. Harry was oddly amused to find that he had managed to find a sappy moment during this strange trip. He'd tried his utmost to avoid such. But to hell with it, if he wanted one bloody photo, Fate would just have to deal with it.

"Morning," Harry greeted, feeling oddly happy this morning. His new plot, i.e. finding a camera, had given him something else to occupy his mind.

Alice nodded at his greeting; Frank opened a palm in a wave before yawning.

"I expected more excitement."Harry said dryly. "After all, you are the ones who get to roam around the village today."

Frank nodded. "Gets sort of boring after third year," he admitted.

"Not boring enough to miss out on butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks," Ethan said, sliding onto the bench to join them. "Did you catch the legs on Ted's daughter?" The seventh year grabbed some toast and pot of jelly while winking in Frank's direction.

"Rosmerta is—" Frank broke off and coughed before stumbling on. "—very good at serving." However Alice didn't seem to mind whatever he'd intended to say.

"You know anyone around with a camera?" Harry asked, changing the conversation abruptly.

"A camera?" Alice asked, tilting her head thoughtfully.

Ethan leaned forward, a bit of jelly on his chin. "What might you be needing a camera for?"

"Uh, thought I'd take some pictures of the Hogwarts architecture," Harry lied swiftly. "You know, to send to my guardians."

"They must really like that sort of thing, and going to China to see a wall and everything." Ethan shook his head, not seeming to believe much of what Harry said. Harry found it odd that Ethan was the only one to see through the bullshit he was spreading.

"Better off someone who might loan me their camera for a bit," Harry prodded again.

Frank shook his head. "Sort of a Muggle-born thing. You could ask Lily; I think I remember seeing her with one once."

Alice shook her head in the negative. "Broke in fourth year."

Harry found himself wondering what happened to the pictures she took prior to that. Of course, the destruction of Godric's Hollow had probably caused some damage to his family's mementos. Death, carnage and Dark Lords can do that to keepsakes.

"Anyone else?" Harry asked.

The group shrugged or looked uninterested, making Harry start to doubt his chances of finding a camera. Maybe he could ask Dumbledore; the headmaster had quite a few gadgets in that office of his, but Merlin only knew what sort of device Dumbledore would produce. (He need only think of the trunk the man had provided to cast that idea aside)

Harry wouldn't let it bother him: there must be a camera somewhere in this school, in the next few days he going to be here he just had to keep his eyes open. Perhaps he'd snag a few photos for Neville as well. If he wandered around opening broom closets he was bound to catch a picture of Alice and Frank—if he had to be traumatized by his parents, someone might as well share the emotion.

"What are you planning to do stuck in the castle all day?" Ethan asked. He finished his breakfast and leaned forward, twisting the back of his hair with a finger.

"Um, sit around, I suppose," Harry hadn't actually given it much thought: just knowing he wouldn't have to worry about coming future, that he wouldn't have to try and think about his parents and their fate was enough.

"I won't even bother suggesting you should do your homework." Lily said, finally joined them.

"Awake before noon: impressive," Alice teased.

"And I keep asking, what homework?" Harry mentioned.

Lily opened her mouth, perhaps to tell him exactly what homework. Thankfully, that potentially boring speech was averted by Ethan making gagging sounds. Lily's gaze was cold enough to freeze water, but it didn't seem to bother him.

"Well, I think that sounds right boring, mate. Maybe you should ask your dorm mates for a way to sneak into the village. Merlin knows I spotted Sirius Black there before he was a third year."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not worried; with the upper years gone, it should be quiet. Maybe I'll do some flying."

That wasn't actually a bad idea. He'd enjoyed the game the other day, but it would be nice to find a spot where he could really allow his Firebolt to fly at the speed he was used to. Indeed, the more he thought about, the more he decided it was a good idea. He'd missed out on practice all this week, and providing he returned sometime before the fortnight, he'd need to be in prime form for the game against Ravenclaw. Cho was determined to make a name for herself before graduating, something he wasn't about to let happen.

"Well, if you think so," Ethan allowed.

"Morning, Harry," a new voice intruded. Harry looked up to see Hortense poised above Ethan, her well made-up face grinning to see him. Her expression changed into a pout. "It's not going to be the same without you in Hogsmeade," she said seriously.

Her intentions were obvious, but Harry bore it well. But then, Frank had said that subtlety wasn't one of her skills.

"Seeing as he's never been to Hogsmeade," Ethan interrupted, "it will actually be just the same."

Hortense's eyes grew a little frosty. "Well, you're a fine friend. At least_ I'm_ going to miss you, Harry. Be sure you get that permission slip signed." She waved her hand, walking past him, an obvious sway to her hips.

Ethan watched her go. "Even I'm not that desperate," he commented.

Harry watched. It seemed obvious that on some level Lily wanted to retaliate: his mother couldn't seem to allow anyone to be spoken badly about. But then, there wasn't much to offer in Hortense's defense.

"Apparently Parkinson really has a thing for her," Alice mentioned.

Harry avoided a gag. "Bad juice, bad juice," he muttered, pushing the pumpkin juice away from him. The others seemed a little confused about the reaction, and Frank sipped his own drink carefully. But Harry was feeling too sick to care: he was starting to get the bad feeling that he knew why Hortense seemed familiar. He simply hoped he was wrong.

"Well, I'm off for some flying," Harry said, getting to his feet. He couldn't help a smile, considering how he'd be able to spend the day doing his favorite thing. Cutting through Hogwarts and back to Gryffindor seemed to take no time at all.

He entered his dorm room to get his broom, waving at a departing James. "Have fun in Hogsmeade," he said to his father.

"Too bad you can't come," James said politely.

Harry shrugged. "I will next time."

He'd managed to forget his trunk in the dorm that morning. Opening it, he removed the Firebolt.

"_How you doing,_" he hissed in to the Boa Vine.

"_Small_ ," the vine hissed.

It didn't look like it was doing well, away from sun, smashed in a miniaturized trunk: the vine had turned a rusty brown color, losing the vibrant green Harry had come to know it as.

"_Maybe I can let you out some today," _Harry considered.

"_Stay_ ," the plant argued. In its current state, the plant seemed to have some difficulty speaking; if Parseltongue could sound scratchy, this plant managed it. Still, it did have a point: now that a week had past, Harry could leave anytime. What had Dumbledore said? It all depended on metabolism...something like that.

Harry frowned at the plant, but still closed the lid before shrinking his trunk and placing it back in his pockets.

Snatching his broom from his bed, he walked to the window and shoved it open. Not wanting to bother climbing down, Harry stood on the sill for a moment before jumping into the open air, swinging his legs under his broom as he began to plummet to the earth. With a rush of speed, he was airborne, soaring over the Hogwarts grounds.

It was going to be a wonderful day.

-

It was going to be a terrible day.

James Potter could see that now. Sirius would be off with Heather or Hannah, whatever her name was, and he'd be spending Hogsmeade with the boys. His best mates. Remus would looking longingly at the bookstore until someone suggested they pop in, wherein they might lose Remus. Peter would only want to stop into the Three Broomsticks: he still seemed to have a slight crush on Rosmerta. She had graduated a couple years ago and was way out of his league, but Peter still hadn't discovered that. They'd amble over to the Zonkos at some point and restock for the coming months, which wasn't nearly as interesting as visiting a magical joke shop sounded.

All and all, it might seem like a pretty good day—if you were back in third year.

James had grown a little tired of the same old thing, especially when he'd had a little something else in mind. Or perhaps 'someone' might be the better way of phrasing it. Lily Evans was the blastedest girl he'd ever met. Stubborn to the point of annoying, a temper to match her hair, all book smarts and no common sense, more loyal than any Hufflepuff, brave as any Gryffindor, and damned it all, he was pissed at her. The girl wouldn't give a bloke a chance. And, he wanted to know, what had he ever done to her?

Alright, there had been a few pranks. He'd been young, how else was he supposed to let her know he liked her—he hadn't even known it himself! And if the girl couldn't take a joke... whatever happened to forgive and forget, eh?

He sighed; it was probably pointless anyway. He was almost mad enough to ask another girl to Hogsmeade, but he knew it would only be an attempt to make her jealous. And he didn't think he'd be able to stand her if she wasn't, not even just a little bit.

So, here he was with his mates. Just three single guys enjoying a lovely Saturday in the village, free from the rules of the school.

"Oh, look at that," Remus said. He was peering into the window of the bookstore with some excitement. "The new Marius book is out." There was a strange glint to the werewolf's eye.

James rolled his eyes; Remus and his Marius Books. As far as James was concerned, this was one of Remus's more annoying qualities, and that was saying something when the person in question was a werewolf. Given the choice he'd prefer Remus keep his furry little problem and drop the books, but both seemed equally unlikely. Not that he could help it, James supposed: they'd sort of fed into each other. Werewolves weren't terribly popular in the wizarding world, and certainly not as playmates for wizarding children. Remus had grown up fairly isolated. He probably thought books were his friends. It was nothing like James's childhood. His mother had always been arranging 'play dates'. He'd probably gotten together with every pure-blood or half-blood child within two years of his age.

James watched as Remus looked at the cover of the Marius book; the fifth one, he believed. Errr, why did he even know that!? The bright purple cover was marked by a gold script: Marius Mage and Secret of the Tomb. What utter rubbish. Wizarding novels tended to be trash in the first place, but the Marius books tended to be the worst of the lot. Remus had tried to get all his friends to read them; James had stomached his way through half of the first book., _Marius Mage and the Key of the Ancients_. Despite his friends' disinterest, Remus would chat about them from time to time. Thus, they all knew more about Marius Mage than most wanted to.

"Let's go in," Remus pressed. It was an unusually assertive demand from the prefect, so James shrugged and followed him inside. As if it would have been avoidable.

Talk about feeling like a hippogriff in an apothecary. James looked around with his hands in his pockets, only a few Ravenclaws scattered about, their heads bent over books.

_No surprise there, Inx isn't about, is he? _thought James nervously. He and the owner of the shop had a row a few years ago; James still claimed that he couldn't possibly be held responsible for that small fire. The fireworks had clearly stated that they were inflammable, was it his fault that the man's collection of fire elemental texts were sensitive to sparks? Sticking his hands behind his back, he peered about. Ducking further into the shelves he looked around curiously. Maybe Lily would be here, he thought wistfully

Remus, on the other hand, was already hurrying up to Mr. Inx. He was short, balding man with a bulbous nose and small eyes. His rather large spectacles, however, had a way of magnifying those eyes to an alarming degree.

"Ah, Mr. Lupin," the man greeted.

"Mr. Inx," Remus greeted. "You have the new Marius book; I thought that wasn't supposed to come out until next month."

Inx chuckled. "Ah well, there was a wee accident with a time turner: seems the publisher got them done a bit ahead of schedule. I told the president of WWR Publishing not to fool around with time travel to speed up printing. I said to him, someday you'll break one and then really have a problem on your hands. Time sand really isn't something to mess around with. Better than late though—if they would have been late, I'd have had to close the shop to keep the Marius fans out of my hair. What is left of it anyway." He patted his balding head with a chuckle.

Remus nodded. "I'll take a copy." He wasn't interested at all in why the books were there sooner, just that they were there.

Inx chuckled. "Yes; got one saved for you. Figured you'd drop in today."

Remus waited impatiently at the counter, tapping his foot against the floor, as Mr. Inx went to the back room for one of the books.

"Can't keep them up front, they fly off the shelves. Literally actually, must be some new gimmick."

Had Remus not been so preoccupied, he might have wondered where his friends wandered off to.

Surprisingly enough, they hadn't left the shop. Peter was trailing behind James, who seemed to be looking for something. They'd wandered all the way back to Historical Fiction. Peter looked curiously at the cover of one of the books: it showed a well-endowed brunette having her shirt tugged at by a large Scottish, kilt-wearing swordsman. 'Will Wandorra submit to Percival's Passion?'

Peter found himself wondering if she would. He flipped the book over to read more.

"Drat," James muttered.

"What!" Peter dropped the book, moving away guiltily.

"Nothing," James said. Lily didn't seem to be browsing the bookstore today. Which seemed out of character, based on what little he knew about her. "Let's drag Remus away," he suggested.

Peter nodded, casting one last glance at _Bewitching the Wandless_ as he left.

It took a moment to find their friend. Remus had joined the other patrons, sitting in a chair, his nose buried in a book. "Come on," James said, tapping Remus on the shoulder.

"Huh?" Remus looked up. "Uh...alright." He seemed a little hesitant but stood all the same.

"So you got another Marius Book?" Peter asked. Peter was perhaps the only other Marauder who had demonstrated some interest in Remus's little hobby. Peter had even managed to read three of them, an impressive number considering that Sirius and James's attempts at reading (added together) didn't even equal a whole book.

"Does it look like the evil Lord Quietiusnex is going to come back?"

James suffered in silence.

"In the last book he made an attempt on Marius's life, but Marius was saved because the ghost of his mother came to him and told him what he needed to do. I was wondering if they were going to explain some of that in this book. How can she be a ghost and not be a ghost? That doesn't seem possible based on the ghosts I've met."

"Hmm, can you loan me that one?" Peter asked.

Remus nodded.

"Oh, come on," James vented. "Don't you think these stories are a little...far-fetched?" He had to say it.

"No, it's very accurate magically. Rowlsten has a Master level in magical theory." Remus's argument was something James had heard before, yet he couldn't help prodding it.

"Okay, so the writer has some fancy qualifications—that doesn't mean that story is logical. Marius Mage is just a kid the first time he comes up against Lord Quintuplet."

"Quietiusnex actually," Remus corrected.

"Yeah, well, he's like a first year, right?" James questioned. He didn't wait for the answer. "Is the evil Lord Quintupled just stupid or something? Why isn't he able to kill him?"

Remus shook his head. "I've explained this, he was saved by—"

"His parents' love, I remember. And Marius has some sort of prophecy that only he can defeat Lord Quintastic, right? What was it again?"

"A boy born to two renegades, born at the winter's end, he shall be the only one with the power to end these dark times that now consume us," Remus recited dutifully.

"It's scary that you know that," James said with a shake of his head. "Anyway, how many kids out there could that have fit? What makes Marius the only one, eh? And, is Marius stupid? He has all this money his parents left for him; why is he sticking around year after year? He should go to Fiji or something."

"Marius wouldn't run away," Peter argued.

"He's fictional, Peter," James challenged; he hoped Peter knew that.

"I'm not debating this with you until you've read the books," Remus seemed to decide.

James sighed. "I'm only saying, it seems too ridiculous to be real." Remus wasn't listening anymore, and to be truthful, neither was James. He'd spotted a head of red hair entering the Three Broomsticks. Changing his direction, he headed for the small pub.

"Butterbeers on me," he offered.

As with any Hogsmeade weekend, the Three Broomsticks was jammed with people; thankfully some spell made the inside bigger than the outside would suggest. The wizarding pub was a popular congregation area for wizards and witches up for a day of shopping, as well as the town's many residents. Still, most of the people crowding the pub that day were Hogwarts students: third year Muggle-borns tasting butterbeer for the first time, some inter-house friends lifting a few and catching up on stories, some older couples enjoying some of the private booths. Also, the food wasn't bad (not for pub fare, anyway). The building was built quite a bit in the past—how far back James didn't know— solid woodwork and a mahogany bar were the main focus of the room. An abundance of candles and a roaring fire place made up for the paltry number of windows, a small row of three near the door. It created a place that was smoky, dimly lit, smelling of ale and meat, and filled with voices. In short, it was a comfortable place

Rosmerta seemed to have taken the helm. Her father Ted had managed the place for longer than anyone could remember. 'Course, _his_ father had been named Ted, too (and his father before him and so on); it made it difficult to tell. The old man still ran the bar, and he wouldn't quite give up the kitchens either, if the rumors were true. Not that Rosmerta seemed to mind much; she had been a kind hearted Hufflepuff, only three or so years above them. (And quite the minx if you believed those rumors as well)

She approached them when they entered, her eyes flashing. "Hello there, you all; hope you brought your galleons this time," she teased them, flicking a lock of her hair as she spoke.

"Now I told you last time, Rosmerta m'dear," James said glibly, "how was I to know that Sirius had switched out my money for Leprechaun gold?"

She scrunched her nose and hid a laugh. "Well, be sure that scoundrel hasn't been by your pocketbook lately. 'Course he's probably far too busy wooing the lasses, eh? He was in here earlier, a different girl than last time, again."

James couldn't avoid the slight cringe. However, he quickly flashed Rosmerta a smile. "Wouldn't happen to be in the mood to help me with my own romantic intentions?" he asked the older girl.

She seemed thoughtful for a moment. "And whom might they be on? I don't want my pub blasted apart if you and Lily Evans get in another snarl."

"Just sit me near her; I promise no damage of private property," James avowed.

"Yeah, well, if you weren't a handsome bugger, I'd have tossed you out long ago." She smiled at him in a friendly way.

The three Marauders crisscrossed the room, heading toward a corner of the pub that was a little quieter. It was located toward the back wall: no windows, but a good view of the bathrooms. Still, James hadn't chosen the spot for the view. Well, not a view of the town anyway. The noisier crowd was gathered up near the bar, listening to a Quidditch match commentary on the pub wireless. There seemed to be fans of both the Puddlemere United and the Harpies as both cheers and jeers resounded when either side scored.

"Budge up, Fletcher," Rosmerta said, nudging a lump of a man who was sitting alone at one table.

"Now there, Rosmerta sweetheart, I haven't even finished my drink yet," the man said. He pulled his hat off, revealing ginger colored hair, and turned his eyes upon her in an expression which might have been endearing, if not for his bloodshot baggy eyes.

"Go on up to the bar: Dad wants to talk to you about something."

"Now Rosmerta dear, you know full well that I told your father that only half of those spoons I sold you were self-stirring-spoons. If the blasted, pardon, if the spoons all needed to stir, he should have gone to the Alley—not that he'd have found my price." The man rubbed his hands as he spoke, glancing up at the young woman with honest eyes, which again were only half-convincing.

"It's not about the spoons," she said, waving the matter away. "He wants to get some of those fairy lights for Christmas."

"Well then," Fletcher said rising to his feet, "I suppose I'll pop up there, then. Just happen to know where I might find some."

"Here you are, boys." Rosmerta wiped the table down. "You be wanting the usual?"

"Yes, please," Peter said. This was his first opportunity to speak to the young mistress of the Three Broomsticks.

She patted his arm fondly. "Aren't you the polite one? Why you hanging around _this_ one?" She jerked her thumb in James's direction, causing him to splutter indignation. She gave the Quidditch star a condescending glance. "There you are: I've seated you near your lady love. Can't help you after that." She passed James, patting his cheeks in a sisterly way. James pushed her away, claiming revenge but smiling as he did so.

Once Rosmerta was gone, his eyes fell upon the only girl that mattered. Although _why _would be a question he'd want answered someday. Lily was sitting with Morgan today. He hadn't been aware that they were friends, but then, he supposed that Lily's only friend was Alice, and that was a girl that was probably busy today. He sent a cautious glance toward some of the darker booths, but he didn't spot the blonde Gryffindor and her seventh year boyfriend.

James looked over at his friends, who were being rather quiet, it seemed. Remus had already opened his Marius book, seemingly unaware of the noisy pub. Peter was glancing back towards the bar area where Rosmerta was laughing with a few of the Quidditch fans.

Well, they'd be of no help. Playing it casual, James got to his feet, sauntering behind Lily. "Hello there," he greeted, whispering into her hair.

Lily jerked. "Merlin, Potter! What do you think you're doing?"

"Just greeting my fellow classmates," he explained, leaning on a chair. "And how are you today Morgan?"

"Fine," the girl answered, looking into her cherry-colored drink.

James moved from Lily's side, leaning against the table and peering over Morgan's shoulder.

"You feeling any better after that stray bludger?" he asked her.

"Go back to your own friends, supposing you have any," Lily hissed back at him.

"When was I talking to you, Evans?" James asked, his tone dripping venom.

Lily took a breath. Her lips had gone pale and her emerald eyes slitted. "Don't you draw Morgan into this. Just because I said I didn't want to go to Hogsmeade with you doesn't mean you have the—"

A large boom shook the surrounding area, interrupting what was no doubt a tedious bit of drama. The tables around the pub jerked about, chairs were tipped over, and those who had been standing managed to spill their drinks upon their neighbors. James Potter hadn't had anything to drink; however, he had managed to fling forward slightly, his palms landing in a rather, erm, enviable position. At least he thought so. Lily didn't seem as pleased about it. She shoved him off, her face growing red, either in rage or embarrassment, James wasn't certain.

The noise of the pub had been cut drastically, which allowed James to hear Lily's muttered comment, "Perv."

"Hey," he grumbled back.

Peter and Remus had stumbled up behind him. "What do you think that was?" Peter asked.

"Sounded like a firework," James suggested. He grinned. "You don't suppose Sirius got into another fight with Zonko?"

Remus, however, was looking a little more concerned. "James," he said hesitantly, "I smell smoke."

James paused, not really knowing what that could mean. He might have easily dismissed it as a prank, but there was something in Remus's tone that made him think the 'smoke' might have a more serious nature. He'd learned to trust Remus's nose.

"How about I take a peek outside?" he suggested cavalierly, winking in Lily's direction.

"Oh, don't try and act like a hero," she huffed. Rising to her feet the red-haired girl moved past them all, joining a crowd that was moving toward the doors and windows. It seemed most of the pub's patrons had the same idea. They bustled about, talking with a curious chatter.

James was ready to join in the excitement, except that he spotted one face that didn't seem amused. Professor Barten wasn't moving toward the door; he was still seated at the bar, his wand casually in hand. The man's sharp eyes seemed to be looking over the crowd, his head cocked as if he was listening to something.

"Hey, Lily, wait," James called, he moved after her, darting into the crowd. Coming up behind her, he touched her shoulder, making her turn her head to look back at him. "Maybe we shouldn't go out there," he stated.

Lily scrunched up her face in an annoyed gesture, then turned back toward the doorway.

Suddenly the people in the front yelled in alarm. The people directly in front of them stepped back and a low mutter of complaints came as people were jostled about. Lily was elbowed by a tall fifth year James recognized as a Ravenclaw. She winced and rubbed her shoulder.

"Watch it," James growled at the taller boy.

"I'm fine." Lily shoved him away, standing on her tiptoes to try and see what the commotion was about.

The noise had stilled some and James was able to make out a few distinct phrases among the shouting. "The apothecary!", "Fire!" and "Merlin's bleeding staff!" (The last not really of much importance.)

Another shock wave seemed to shake the building. Overhead, the beams rattled and sawdust filtered down upon the students and few adults who had come to a halt, no longer pressing toward the door. The silence seemed very thick after the loud commotion that had rent through the crowded pub just moments ago.

One figure moved at a quick pace toward the fireplace. "Well, ta, Rosmerta," the man said. James recognized him as the Fletcher man who had been at their table earlier. He tossed some green powder in the flames, shouting his destination...only nothing happened. After a moment of waiting the man jumped out, patting the hems of his trousers that had caught on fire once the magical flame had reverted back to its normal state.

"Cor," the man cried, still swiping at his singed trousers. "There is something wrong with the Floo," he announced to the room, although that should have been obvious.

Another boom sent people tottering again, banging into each other. Some girls screamed and someone must have fallen down and gotten hurt because James heard what sounded like pained sobs. He tried to look over people's heads, but it was simply too shifting and chaotic to figure out where the noise had come from.

The shaking ceiling had worked to panic more individuals.

"Let's get out of here before the roof falls in," James heard someone behind him shouted. The unseen figure was soon jostling James, and was joined by half the crowd all fiercely determined to reach the exit.

Having a little more weight and height, James dug in his heels and managed to fall to the side. He looked around startled to spot Lily being pushed forward along with the others. He caught her gaze for a moment and thought he saw shards of fear in her emerald eyes, although her expression was a tight line not omitting any emotion.

"Lily!" James called, flinging himself into the crowd, he trying to catch up with her. A hand latched onto his robes, tugging him back. He spotted Peter clutching at him nervously, his gaze meeting James as if to ask for instruction. He knew his friend wasn't the sort to handle difficult situations well, but he found himself irritated at the moment. He shook the shorter boy loose and plunged back into the crowd.

"Lily!" he called again. Caught in the push towards a door he couldn't even spot anymore, the faces of these individual people had all blurred into an indistinct _crowd_ hung on its own instincts.

"James!" a voice suddenly reached out to him.

He turned around, spotting the point of his search. Lily was pushed against a wall, managing to have stopped just short of the door. She seemed to be sheltering something beside her, taking the rough jabs that came her way as she fought against the tide of people. James wasn't quite as polite, knocking people out of his way, he reached her side and tried to block her from the onslaught with his back. It was only now that he was near enough that he could tell what, or rather who, she was protecting: a young girl was latched to Lily's side. She must have been a third year, but she was very short and thin. James didn't know her, but tears streamed down her face pitifully.

"I think she broke her arm," Lily said, trying to reach above the din.

"WHAT!" James called back, moving his ear closer to her lips.

"SHE BROKE HER ARM!" Lily yelled, but it was still difficult to hear, even with her breath washing against his neck.

James looked back at the little girl. "LET'S GET AWAY FROM HERE!" he called. He'd been stuck in the back several times as people tried to leave, but he didn't really think of that now. Looking at the girl's tearful face he felt utterly unequipped to help her, but getting her out of the mob couldn't hurt.

James held out his arms to the girl; she looked uncertain so James gestured picking her up.

It didn't turn out to be as heroic looking as he thought it would be. Because of her injured arm, and the push of the crowd, he found himself lifting her more like a potato sack. He'd just had her settled against his chest steadily when a sharp jab to his side sent him sprawling. With the additional top weight the girl was providing, his balance was thrown off. He gripped her legs tightly trying not to loose her in the scuffle.

"Budge it," a tall man grunted as James struggled to regain his footing. Only one foot on the ground, he was twisted around and pushed out of the pub. The girl wrapped an arm around his neck almost strangling him, but he managed to shake her off some once he was on solid ground again. He staggered, looking around at the sunlight. He managed to catch himself before taking a tumble and making a real arse of himself.

He would have said that it was nice to be out in the fresh air, but it really wasn't that fresh. The acrid smell of the burning apothecary filled the air with a smoky smell that made him cough. Once again, he was shoved out of the way as another exiting patron seemed determined to move in his direction.

His rubbed his chest grumpily with his free hand. Maybe his valiant effort to block Lily had not been the best idea. It was just a fire: people didn't have to panic so.

Lily burst from the pub, her expression more annoyed than worried, "There you are!"

In the road, people were able to span out more, heading in whatever destination they thought best. She approached them quite easily, which was slightly annoying considering how James had been shuffled about.

James had landed in a position out of the main flow of travel. Most of the students were heading back towards the castle, while some of the adults seemed to be Hogsmeade locals and were hurrying home to check on their own properties. Either way, it was either left or right; James had wandered straight, ending across from the Three Broomsticks. People still seemed to grapple about, trying to decide whether they wanted to exit or not.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, her manner oddly caring.

"Lils, never knew you cared," he replied with a cheeky grin. Maybe he was growing on her.

She frowned and narrowed her brows angrily. Ah, that was an expression he knew. "I wasn't talking to you, Potter," she spat. "What did you think you were playing at, acting the hero? I said she broke her arm, not her leg, you idiot. She could have walked just fine and then we wouldn't have been tossed about."

"No big deal, right?" James argued. He looked down at the slim girl he was still carrying, and set her down gently. "See? All's well that ends well."

"I wasn't actually wanting to leave the pub," Lily said frostily.

"You can go back in: no one is stopping you."

"Arguing already." Remus appeared at their sides, looking only faintly amused. But that seemed to leave him when he managed to catch a good view of the burning apothecary. The ingredients inside had set the flames burning at different colors. It was really amazing looking if you thought about it that way. A few other people had gathered around for a gander. Some seemed to be clever enough to remember the charm that conjured water, but it was doing little good.

"Quite the sight," James said. It wasn't actually too bad outside; why had they wanted to stay in anyway?

"It's not something for your amusement," Lily lectured.

"Girl, if you can't just sit and watch a bloody fire without opening your gob—" He was cut off by a furious glare, and wisely turned away from her. "What's going on inside?" he asked Remus, ignoring the spluttering invectives coming from Lily's direction.

"Barten is trying to get everyone under control, and Rosmerta is hexing those who aren't listening. I don't fancy being the bloke who managed to knock over a tea tray; when she gets a hold of him, he'll have preferred getting crushed by the roof. Less painful, anyway."

"Imagine Barten liked that," James said thoughtfully.

"Don't think so," Remus frowned. "He looked a little tense, actually."

James and Remus moved a little more down the street, passing a stationary store, the Quidditch shop, and a place that sold fancy robes. Lily and the third year hung back, but still followed. The prefect seemed to have gotten over her ire for the moment and was speaking gently to the girl; her wand was out and the injury was quickly bound in a white wrapping. The small blonde third year seemed to have swallowed some of her fear and was trying to catch up with James and Remus, her eyes glued on the flames.

"Exciting, eh?" James said speculatively. "Nothing like a good fire to make a boring Hogsmeade visit a little more memorable."

"Is that all you think it is?" Remus questioned, he continued gazing at the blaze.

"What else could it be?" James almost found himself laughing: it really was ridiculous. Everyone had panicked over something so little. What world did they think they were living in? This Dark Lord had everyone spooked, but Voldemort had never attacked a town; that would be foolish. He was targeting Muggle-borns and pure-bloods who had married Muggles and such, everyone knew that. That was barmy enough on its own.

"I don't feel so good," Remus said, suddenly.

James turned at the odd comment, a shock of concern hitting him when he got a look at his friend. Remus's face was pale and a thin line of sweat had gathered on his brow.

Come to that, why did it seem like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees in a manner of seconds? James didn't quite know, but he was starting to feel bad himself. It wasn't sick, really: it just felt like he'd lost a Quidditch game, or something even worse. It was hard to put words to. He looked over his shoulder at Lily, who was looking around nervously as well, her fair complexion growing paler. Not quite knowing why she looked up and met James's gaze. She moved a little further up the street, standing closer to James and Remus; the young girl was clutching her arm fretfully now.

" Do you—Remus!" Lily called in alarm.

James could only watch helplessly as his friend collapsed onto the ground. He crouched beside him, noting a frown marring the werewolf's expression and tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Nooo, nooo," Remus moaned fitfully.

Down the road, Barten emerged from the pub. He looked around worriedly, but whatever he was looking for, he didn't see. However, that didn't seem to diminish his worry. He spotted the students, and jogged toward them. In a minute, he was at their side, not bothering to check on Remus, only looking at him with a stony expression.

"Your friend would have a tough time of it," he said coldly.

"Professor, he just—!" James tugged at Remus but his friend showed no sign of any recognition.

Another man emerged from the pub. He too ran quickly towards them, stopping before Barten. James thought he remembered seeing the black wizard next to the professor at the bar. "See if Rosmerta has any chocolate," Barten said to a man. Why in Merlin's name would they needed chocolate now?

The stranger paused. "I'm rubbish around them, you remember," he said, looking at the ground.

"Some have a right to be," Barten said almost gently. But then James figured he must have imagined it because the Defense professor's face was just as expressionless.

Still the young wizard nodded, crossing back to the pub despite the shaking of his legs. James noticed that the man couldn't seem to run anymore.

The temperature continued to drop. And suddenly James was starting to see why: some odd creatures were gliding toward them. The had come from right, emerging, no doubt, from the alleys behind some of the shops on the other side of the street. They weren't close enough to take in much detail, but he knew they couldn't be human. They glided on the air like specters. They were skirting around the fire and air seemed to freeze in his throat the nearer they drew; the cold was so intense it seemed to be freezing something deeper than flesh, like his very soul was shaking in the chill. The few people that were near them seemed to tumble to the ground. What happened to them, James didn't see, they were soon hidden behind more of the creatures.

James climbed to his feet, pulling out his wand. He didn't now what they were, but he didn't want them any closer.

"Good: you're mobile. Get out of here." Barten shoved James toward Lily and the still unknown third year. "Take them," the Defense professor ordered. James nodded dumbly for a moment, he was starting to walk towards the pub when he realized that Barten was following them.

"What about Remus?" James found himself protesting.

Barten looked at the collapsed student; James hadn't realized how cold his professor's eyes looked. "Can you carry him? Levitate him to safety? You have the strength, boy? Those are dementors: they suck the magic right out of you." Barten's cold cynicism was infuriating. James swallowed; he was having enough trouble putting his own feet in front of the other. James continued staring at his friend, and stubbornly moved away from the pub. He couldn't carry him. He raised his wand—maybe magic would be better. Levi- levicorpus? That was the spell. He moved his wand but the words seemed hard to say, his magic seemed hard to find.

"Levicorpus– " James's voice rasped. Remus seemed to lift only inches off the ground.

He wiped at his sweaty forehead, his eyes moving back to the street. They seemed impossibly closer. Still he stood before his friend, his body bending like a reed. And those things—they were moving faster than the growing chill. Before he had a moment to think, they passed the fire. They moved like one organism almost, only one or two breaking from the group when they stumbled upon a person who had collapsed under their power. James strained to see what they were doing with those people.

Barten cursed and appeared beside him, his own face looking drawn. He tugged at James's shoulder, trying to drag him away from Remus and toward the pub.

"You want to be an auror, Potter? It's time you learned about sacrifice."

-

A Wronski Feint is perhaps one of the most dangerous maneuvers a seeker can attempt. It is also the most sought after among the professional teams. Captain of the Holy Harpies once said, "Don't even bother applying for the post of seeker if you can't manage it." Oddly enough, despite its desirability, a Wronski feint is only really effective twenty percent of the time. There are simply too many factors at work, and if the opposing seeker is worth their salt, they should be able to spot the bluff before plowing into the pitch. Also, the fact that the move has made it into a even an average seeker's training manual, well, it takes away some of the surprise. When it was (or would be, depending on your frame of time) invented, Josef Wronski managed to trick a good deal of his opponents. Now, however, it had become somewhat stale. Perhaps the real reason it is so popular has more to do with the fact that crowds seem to enjoy it, giving an exciting edge to a Quidditch match: showmanship has always been a part of any professional sport.

But there is actually another reason why coaches prefere their seekers to possess the skill. Frankly, it is a good judge of nerve. Seekers need to be fearless, they need to ride the winds at breakneck paces, all to chase after a little winged ball. Good seekers are always courageous, but the really great ones are also a little mad. They have to be. They have to be the sort of people who forget about gravity, the sort of people who leave_ more _than just the ground behind. And if a seeker can preform a picture-perfect Wronski Feint, well, they might have the sort of madness that a team is looking for.

That being said, it spoke to Harry's character that the Wronski Feint was his favorite Quidditch play.

He was enjoying the empty Quidditch pitch now, flying sharp Wronski Feints and loving the rush his Firebolt gave him when he let it out full speed. His called his current flights 'sharp Wronskis' but it was almost a different flying pattern. Probably pointless in a game, but helluva lot of fun to fly. He'd fly almost vertically down, then arch up just as suddenly, forming a parabola—not that a mathematical term meant much to Harry. He'd just discovered he could do it one day, and it had brought the best of both worlds: the weightless of falling and the rush of shooting up. It had given his Quidditch mates back home coronaries, but it was a great ride. The only downside was the sudden urge to puke from time to time, but if you could control your gag reflex, no problem.

A faint boom was enough to break him off course. Harry had been flying upward when he jerked at the echoing noise, losing his altitude and falling slightly to the left. He couldn't see anything, still surrounded by the Quidditch stands, but he corrected his flight path and was soon soaring above the stadium.

Smoke was already beginning to mar the blue sky, making it easy to spot the source of the commotion.

His heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest as he watched the gray smoke curl ominously above the town of Hogsmeade. It could be harmless, but he knew it wasn't. He didn't think: his broom was already moving in that direction. Where others might dismiss, Harry reacted.

Despite what some Potions Masters may think, he did have a brain, and it caught up after a moment.

What was he thinking? This wasn't the present. It wasn't as if he could change things. Harry hung absently on his broom, the edge of the Hogwart's grounds below him, his eyes watching the rising smoke with a grimace. It had already happened.

"All time travelers were meant to travel, and hence if they didn't travel history would not be as we know it. So I shan't tell you to be too careful. If you were meant to do something, then you've already done it."

Ah, he knew that voice. That was the sort of thing that Dumbledore said: utterly unhelpful.

Another explosion seemed to rock the village of Hogsmeade, a cloud of smoke emerged from the town. He tried to look away, to turn his back on it. This wasn't his problem.

_Who am I kidding? _Harry thought grimly.

He let his broom slip higher into the air. The wind currents buffeted against his face, pressing his glasses against his skin and making his hair lie flat against his head. Hogsmeade wasn't far from the Hogwarts's grounds, but he chose to climb higher rather than approach the town directly. He was nearing the border of the village when he felt them.

Perhaps he should have seen them first: a quadrant of tall, black-robed, soul-sucking monsters isn't really something that can hide on a sunny day, even in a magical village. But he didn't spot them: he felt them, that same chill, the rush of memories that seemed to drag him down faster than gravity. He was practically a dementor alarm bell.

He pulled his broom higher, trying to shake off some of their power. He needed a clear head, and since he had the chance at a bird's-eye-view, he was going to take it.

From the air, the small village of Hogsmeade looked like the best toy train set: little brightly painted houses, the main avenue showing crooked brick streets and alleys branching off like dark rivers. Some of the houses were a little more modern with shingled roofs, but a few rooftops gleamed the golden hue of thatch. The train station was off to the west, near the lake, but the tracks ran alongside the town, seeming to box the place in. Harry could spot his favorite stores; having spent three years wandering through the small town, he was quite familiar with the small hamlet. And, as with much in the wizarding world, not much would change in the next twenty years or so.

The Three Broomsticks welcomed you into the town from the west, and further down the main road, you would find Zonkos and Honeydukes. A few shops that didn't usually appeal to students were scattered in-between. Harry vaguely remembered a bookstore, a robe boutique and an apothecary. Some residential homes were settled more to the east, and ramshackle apartments (usually home to recent graduates of Hogwarts), were settled in the eastern alleys behind the stores. The alleys were also home to a few of the shops not usually recommended to witches and wizards; hags, vampires, and other creatures were known to frequent these spots. Stores there could sell a variety of hard-to-find items: bottles of rare blood types, the occasional dragon egg, and robes for all difficult body types._ (March Hares' Wares: Too tall? Too lean? An extra arm in-between? Hurry to the March Hare. Giant sizes available upon request.)_

All and all, it was a harmless little magical village; at least, it should be. Harry watched the scene playing out before him with an old sickness in the pit of his stomach. A building he believed to be the apothecary, if the green and purple smoke was any indication, blazed unattended. Another small fire, likely someone's home, also filled the air with thick black smoke. From the small house Harry watched as a green skull and snake rose upward, adding a sickly color to the bright afternoon. Harry's grip on his wand tightened as he watched the symbol glow despite the daylight—he _hated_ Voldemort's idiotic final touch. Really? _Really?_ Did the megalomaniac have to leave a calling card? Kind of cliché, wasn't it? Oh well, why not go with what works, eh?

But that old cold power quickly pulled his gaze away from the dark mark; even the massive blast from the apothecary's blaze didn't distract him for long. His eyes slid past the sparks of destruction, their cold power always seemed to draw him away. He'd worry he was a little masochistic, if he had the time to worry about such things. He was already too late, he felt numb as he watched dementors coming from the east, a litter of bodies lying motionless in their wake.

He was far too late.

-

"Sacrifice?" James Potter fumbled with the word as if it were a foreign thing. That had to be a line, right? Barten was posing. They were students, this was Hogsmeade: things like this didn't happen on sunny afternoons. This sort of choice required nighttime, rain, and lightning. You didn't decide whether you left your friend to die on pleasant days.

Behind them, Lily cried out. "Professor?" she called weakly.

James glanced back to see Lily supporting the slumped body of the young girl. Merlin, he needed to learn her name. Lily was looking pale as well; she had lowered to her knees to try and keep the girl somewhat upright.

"Too late now," Barten said harshly. He wiped the sweat on his brow looking at James tiredly. "You're going to need to think of something happy and repeat after me."

Lily finally settled the girl on the ground, moving to stand in front of her.

"Good girl," Barten instructed. "Stand with Potter here."

For once, Lily didn't argue: she joined James in shielding Remus. She swallowed heavily; her hand tightened on her wand now that she stood defiantly before these creatures.

One of the dementors fell behind, standing over a figure that had slumped in the distance. For once they were two close to loose sight of what was happening. James's curiosity forced his attention. The man's arm twitched as if under some sort of fit while the creature stroked his face in what might seem tender. James stood numbly, finding it hard to breathe as the thing lowered its hooded face over the man.

The unknown man jerked again, his body spasming as the creature's skeletal hands clutched at the man's shoulder. James wished he had looked away, selfishly glad that he hadn't seen this happening before.

"Expecto Patronum!" a voice above him yelled. The Defense professor had his arm extended as a silvery bear emerged from his wand, bounding toward the creatures. The dementors moved back only inches—the bear couldn't drive them all away, the spell merely seemed to bite at the monsters' heels.

James raised his own wand. Barten had said to think of something happy? That seemed nothing short of impossible. Still, he dredged his mind, trying to find one happy moment in his life. They all seemed so fleeting and insubstantial at the moment. Finally, he grasped a hold of when he'd first learned of his animagus ability.

"Expecto Patnum!" he shouted. Nothing happened; the pronunciation had seemed a bit off.

"Patronum," Lily corrected tiredly.

"Think of something happy," he encouraged her. "Expecto Patronum!" he called again, forcing as much magic as he could through his wand. Some white mist emerged, but died just as soon as his lost concentration.

A strange shadow seemed to dart across the ground and James found himself dreading that perhaps dementors could fly. He didn't want to look up just in case he was right. Barten didn't seem as pessimistic; his gaze shifted from the dementors for a moment but he only frowned and returned his focus back to trying to drive away the massive amount of dementors that had descended onto the village.

But it simply wasn't enough. James didn't know if that was the depressing power of these monsters speaking, or if it was the truth. Either way, it seemed impossible for one patronus to drive back such a large number: the bear would move to the left, and those on the right would inch closer. James felt his knees weakening and his vision began to swim.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" a new voice entered the scene. James looked up, blinking against the sun.

Riding in on a broom, his hair swept about by the wind, Harry Tempus arrived in Hogsmeade. His speed on a broom was impressive, but that wasn't what James was watching. Harry held the shaft of his broom with one hand; in the other, his wand was fully extended, a burst of silver light flying out before him.

Harry landed on the ground easily, slipping off the broom when it was still a few feet in the air. One arm held onto the handle as he fell, and he pulled the broom close to his side. His eyes, however, never left the silvery creature he had created. Charging ahead and facing the dementors with no fear, a large silver stag used its horns like a ram, goring into and scattering the dementors. The creature was impressive: at least 15 hands across with antlers that reached higher than most men were tall. This patronus also seemed more concentrated: it looked more like a tangible animal than the Defense professor's shimmering bear. James knew he was biased; how could he not admire such a great and noble form?

"Tempus," Barten grunted. "I thought you weren't supposed to visit the village today."

"What can I say?" Harry allowed with a shrug. "I was never one to follow the rules. And you've got some Death Eaters coming from the right." Harry jerked his shoulder in the direction he had seen them nearing. The dementors were being herded out the city; the two corporal patronuses doing what one alone couldn't do. Although James wondered if perhaps it was Tempus's creation that had them fleeing.

"The aurors should be on their way; this much spell damage and a pack of dementors can't escape their notice." Barten shook his head with impatience as he spoke. He seemed to have little faith in his place of previous employ.

"Always late," Harry agreed, dismissing them casually.

From behind them a few more citizens were emerging from the pub; they crossed the open street looking around with squinted eyes. James noticed as Barten's friend from earlier approached. His hands held something and he gave it to Barten unceremoniously.

Barten opened the silver wrapping and stuck the dark food in his mouth. He tossed some to Harry as well, who tore off the wrapping and bit into it with a slight grimace.

"Baking chocolate," he grouched. "Terrible thing to do to a sweet."

James and Lily got their own pieces; Harry was already kneeling next to Remus, opening the werewolf's mouth and letting a small bit rest on his tongue.

Chris, the man James recognized from earlier gave Harry a curious look. "Sorry; too bad we weren't at Honeydukes," the man joked lightly. Harry looked up and was surprised for a moment. The newcomer looked young, probably not out of Hogwarts long. Harry thought he looked strangely like his roommate Dean Thomas.

A few other people were milling about now that the dementors had gone, most coming from the residential area of the village. One older man approached those that had been kissed and he kicked the booted foot of one soulless shell. "Bad business," he muttered. "You know who is behind this. But coming out into the open like this. What's he playing at?"

Somewhere down the street, someone started screaming.

"Get back inside," Barten said harshly to his students. He paused for a moment when he looked at Harry, but seemed to decide to bunch them all together. Harry looked down at Remus who was just starting to come around.

"You get her, I'll take him," Harry answered. He nodded to Barten before the professor turned on his heels and darted toward the screams.

James picked up the little girl, this time managing a more heroic pose. Not that he had noticed. "Remus," James said with some relief. "You all right, mate?" The little girl was still dead weight in his arms, but Remus seemed to coming around.

Harry helped Remus to his feet. Remus took the arm reluctantly; still, it was obvious that he couldn't stand on his own power. Everyone still seemed a little shaky.

"I'm fine; were those dementors?" He spoke softly, a bookish, clinical tone wiping his friends' concern away.

"Yeah, ugly buggers," James agreed. They paused for a moment when a loud banging noise came from outside. They stood still, their ears straining for more.

"We should get inside," Lily advised, her tone a little more tense than usual. Her hair flicked in the wind as she looked around nervously.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. He looked toward the sound of the noise, deciding it would be better to make sure that his parents made it to safety before considering any additional acts of foolhardiness that were bound to kill him.

Remus's eyes opened some. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

Ah, they'd noticed; trust that Remus, even in a poor state, would be the first to notice. "Yep. So this is Hogsmeade, eh? Cozy little village," he commented dryly. He looked around, taking note of the still burning apothecary and the corpses that littered the street.

"How did you learn to cast a Patronus?" James asked, not curious at all about the young man's presence. (Who _hadn't _snuck into Hogsmeade a time or two?)

"He what!? A corporal one?" Remus asked.

They had reached the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, and Harry was wondering the best way to handle this question when, thankfully, another distraction emerged. The fight that must have been happening further down spilled into the yard before the Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta had opened the door and was waving them in frantically. Harry pushed Remus in, unfortunately knocking the werewolf off his feet. Rosmerta caught him about arms and pulled him out of the way when he others pushed in.

Harry darted to window, not sparing time on those already inside. Most of them were either looking out anxiously or huddling in corners. Behind him, James and Lily were reuniting with their terrified friends who had managed to stay inside. Peter and Morgan seemed almost numb; they looked at James and Lily as if they hadn't really expected to see them again.

But outside, the real fight was going on. Barten and a few other adult wizards had joined forces to try and stop the destruction the Death Eaters were causing. Harry spotted a dark-haired witch who he thought might have been Marlene McKinnon; she at least resembled the woman who had been in Moody's photograph. Hagrid had said she was a great witch, and the woman out there was certainly holding her own, relying on some advanced charm work that seemed to swirl around like a cloud.

Barten was holding true to his previous expectations. Harry was starting to doubt the man's magical prowess: he seemed eager to resort to Muggle-fighting at most opportunities. Also, his Patronus, while corporal, hadn't been much to brag about. He was likely only an average wizard. Still, Harry winced as Barten's fists made contact with one Death Eater's masked face: the man could pack a punch. The mask had shattered, along with the Death Eater's nerve—a well placed stunner followed up by a binding spell had the man contained before Barten moved on. Harry had to admit, he'd had worse Defense professors.

"Whew," James exclaimed. He'd left the others and joined Harry at the window, his eyes alight while watching the confrontation.

Harry ignored him, turning back to the scene playing out he spotted something that made him tense. A short, blonde woman was cowering beside a building, three shops down and across the street, a small child was wrapped in her robes. The pair had chosen to hide behind a small fence, one which had been already demolished by a blast from one of the Death Eaters. The child was sobbing, obviously terrified; her mother was trying to take them someplace safer, but everything had become chaotic. Indecision.Harry bit his lip. A dark brown spell struck the mother in the shoulder, and she joined the child in screaming.

Harry's hand caught the latch on the window, opening it before another moment's thought.

"Harry!" Lily exclaimed, tugging at his robes, but he was already swinging a leg over the window ledge and jumping down. His arm quickly slid from her grasp.

Moving through a battlefield wasn't something Harry had much experience at, but he'd dodged curses before: what it came down to was spatial awareness. He moved through the fighting adults, raising a shield and ducking when needed. He dropped to his knees and was once forced to drop to his knees and roll to avoid a stray burst of green light. His only real 'advantage' was that he wasn't drawing any direct attention and managed to reach the woman, kneeling next to her.

"Can you move?" he asked her. He was quite close, her frightened face only inches from his own. He angled his head a bit so that he could see behind him.

"My arm," the woman moaned. She bit her teeth shut tightly, obviously trying to ignore the pain.

"I'll carry her," Harry said, gesturing to the little girl whose sobs were drowned out among the spell casting. "We should get you inside." He glanced over at the Three Broomsticks, but dismissed it. He doubted the pair would be able to dodge through that maelstrom of curses and hexes.

The woman nodded, eying the scene hesitantly. "Amy, honey, this nice man is going to take us someplace safe." Harry marveled at the calm tone her voice managed to take while talking to the little girl. "It's okay, honey," she soothed.

Harry didn't know if it was okay. He tried to hide a grimace when he lifted the small girl. Her mother's robe was soaking up the blood from her shoulder wound. The fabric had torn some and Harry could see her skin beneath: the shade had changed to a sickly blackish green.

"Come on, Amy," he said, trying to put the girl at ease. "You ever play tag? Well, we're going to try and not become It."

Harry finally decided to carry the girl piggy-back. She wrapped her legs around his middle, and her arms around his shoulders, her little hands clutching his robes tightly. With a deep breath, Harry got up from the shattered remains of the fence and moved away from the battle, and towards the left. Right would only offer open land and the long road to Hogwarts: not enough cover. They needed a place they could hide until help arrived. He took the woman's arm in one hand, leaving his wand accessible in the other.

"Hold on tight, Amy," he instructed the little girl. He tugged the pair alongside a building, slamming the woman against the wall harder than he'd have liked to drag her out of the way of another spell. The robe shop was closest but it looked deserted. The door was locked when he managed to near it, but a quick alohomora spell had the handle unlatched.

He swung the door open and ducked out of the way of a stunning spell.

"Go away," someone said, a terrified tone to her voice.

"I've got some injured people here," he offered, hoping that whomever was hiding wouldn't curse them.

A brunette peeked up from behind a counter. She saw the little girl and the injured woman at his side and raised a hand to her mouth.

"Sorry dear." The woman rose to her feet. She was middle-aged and more than a bit heavy, her extra weight hidden well behind a fine pair of mauve and silver robes. "Oh, hurry, I didn't know what to do—I locked the door and..."

"Do you have a cellar? Back room?"

"Cellar? Yes, there is one back there; use it for storing—"

"Great," Harry interrupted. "I'd suggest you bunker down there until the aurors have things under control." Harry shuffled the woman further into her store, ignoring her confusion and sputtered arguments. It wasn't until that they were all three women were down in the cellar did she manage to speak up more.

"Now see here, boy: I won't be ordered about in my own shop. Just who do you think you are?" she hissed irately.

"Someone smarter than to think a simple locking charm is going to keep Death Eaters out," Harry answered. He slammed the cellar door shut, and turned back to the main room. He heard some angry noises coming from below, but it seemed the woman was invested in her own survival enough to stay put.

Harry crossed back out the main room. The shop was mostly unharmed: a stray curse had busted through one window and singed a hideous green velvet robe—certainly an act of mercy.

His eyes instantly sought out the fight: neither side seemed to be gaining any ground. The few citizens of Hogsmeade who had gone out to fight hadn't taken the matter easily. Once again Harry's eyes were drawn the witch he believed to be Marlene McKinnon: she certainly had a way with magic. Her spells were fast and looked complicated, a swirling tangle of different colored spells. Harry wondered how she managed to have her magic hang in the air around her like she did. Death Eaters seemed hesitant to get too close.

Barten's friend Chris was also a confidant fighter. He didn't seem to have Barten's penchant for Muggle violence, but his spells were very accurate. Once again, Harry found himself oddly reminded of his dormmate, Dean Thomas: the wizard had been a member of DA. His and Chris's fighting styles were. There was little flash, few spells cast, but each move was made to count. Harry watched dispassionately as the man struck a Death Eater with a powerful-looking burst of orange light. The robed figure collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

But it wasn't only the Death Eaters who were sustaining injury. A short man with red hair was brought down by a stunner, not far from him blonde witch was pushed aside and fell painfully onto her arm, across the street a thin man took a cutting curse to the shoulder and the people near him were sprayed with his blood.

Harry blinked.

A portkey must have activated. Suddenly, the street was fuller: a group of aurors had finally arrived. They wore their official dark blue robes, now creating a unifying presence to go against the Death Eaters' black.

The citizens out in the streets seemed to hearten renewing their efforts; Harry thought he heard the cheers of some people hidden among the town. It seemed that whatever your politics, everyone was relieved to see aurors arriving.

Harry's gaze focused on the Three Broomsticks: in one window he thought he saw his father's smiling face. It was too difficult to tell through the glare, but it seemed like a James-thing to do. Harry looked back at the cellar; they should be safe. Perhaps he should consider making his way back to the pub.

Indeed, things were looking up: within the first few minutes, the group of aurors were jumping into action. Their port-key had settled them in the middle of street, spaced tightly together. In only a moment they has spilt into two groups, one moving east, the other west.

Each group had two levels. The first row had strong shield charms. They ploughed down the street, their boots moving at a steady march. Behind them, another row of aurors used the cover to fire spells at Death Eaters.

As the groups marched in opposite directions down the street, they absorbed and aided any civilians caught in the battle as well as helping those that had been injured. They were cleaning the street in a very deliberate and methodical manner. The black robed Death Eaters were being pushed out, unable to combat these numbers.

Harry felt an odd sense of nervousness. Was it just him, or were there more civilians out there now? What were they doing out there? He'd been out there ducking for cover only moments ago and he hadn't noticed that many people on the street. It didn't make sense. True, the aurors were gaining headway, but it didn't make sense to come out when the battle was only half-won.

A green light flashed, lurid and blinding.

And then another.

And then another.

The green glare was suddenly drowning the street: it seemed like his eyes were tinged with the color. The light played across the room cruelly. Harry blinked away, feeling an emptiness rise in his chest. It was the same shade of green that had haunted his nightmares as a child.

Outside in the yard, somewhere between ten and twenty wizards had dropped dead, seemingly struck down by normal residents of Hogsmeade. These wizards hadn't been dressed in the garb of Death Eaters: their faces were unmasked. They stood between the two squads of aurors, striking them down from inside their formation.

Harry pursed his lips, hating that he couldn't dreg up much emotion to be horrified. Instead, his worried mind began to wonder what else Voldemort was planning.

-

The patrons still inside the Three Broomsticks were handling the sight with less hardened eyes.

James had gone numb; he stared blankly at the scene without understanding what he was seeing. Lily, who had been back a little further, acting as a support to Morgan, hadn't seen what had happened, only witnessed the green light reflecting around the room, but she found herself unable to recognize the situation either. Morgan had buried her head into Lily's shoulder. Remus's mouth hung open in shock and Peter sat down on the floor heavily. Around them, other reactions were swelling. A few individuals screamed or yelled out in alarm; some people didn't understand what was happening but the confusion only fueled their panic more. However, after this bust of noise everyone in the pub sank into a uneasy silence.

The fear that such an event caused was easy to see. Terrified muttering began to reach James's ears after the silence had worn away.

"Hobbsin, that's Philmore Hobbsin—he was a schoolmate of mine. Never would have thought him joining up with the likes of them." A middle-aged man pointed out one of the killers with a trembling hand.

"Betty Crowdil," another said, more softly than the one previous. "She works for the Ministry..."

Fear and shock grew as more of the 'plainclothes' Death Eaters were recognized. The people out there were neighbors, friends, co-workers—they were people who you met everyday. Somehow this seemed more terrifying than those figures in black robes and masks: those were monsters, but these...these were all too human.

"Are they losing?" James found himself asking weakly. It wasn't a possibility he had questioned until just now. He found himself feeling helpless and out of control. Another auror fell to the ground, his throat a red ruin, his hand twitching in the dirt.

-

While the people in the pub had reacted to brutal and merciless killings, those actually on the battlefield hadn't had time to pause for breath. Barten tackled one of the unmasked Death Eaters to the ground, binding him with surprisingly little effort. The other citizens were doing their part and the remaining members of the auror team seemed to have turned off whatever compassion they had: each blow brought blood and broke bone.

BOOM.

Another explosion rocked the ground, this time startling even the Death Eaters who must have started the blaze. The rush of magically-charged air knocked the fighters off their feet. In the pub, the windows shattered, strewing glass about the room and slicing into those who had been near enough. The battle hadn't paused in the slightest. Barten, always the able one, had used the distraction to knock two Death Eaters into unconsciousness. Binding them, he snapped their wands before most people had managed to regain their footing.

The apothecary, however, was now burning wildly. The last explosion had shot out of the roof, sending flaming debris into the surrounding areas, landing onto the nearby buildings and quickly catching the fresh timber alight. Whatever was burning and causing these violent eruptions must be highly flammable.

Harry cast a quick spell on floor and particularly the area near the cellar, it would make certain that even if the shop did catch alight, the people down below should be safe. These attackers weren't after money: they wanted mass loss of life. Harry needed to get back to the Three Broomsticks. James and Lily and the others—he needed to be certain that they were safe. He wasn't just trusting that time will out.

Harry slipped outside, shutting the door quietly. His best option would be to remain out of sight as much as possible; perhaps he could move further up the street and cross over to the other side once he was out of range. The Death Eaters weren't his only rivals at the moment: the appearance of attackers dressed as ordinary residents had obviously affected those defending the town. Aurors and the citizens of Hogsmeade were striking at anything that moved, likely even resulting in some friendly fire accidents. Harry wasn't paying close enough attention to tell for certain, but he wouldn't have been surprised.

Harry ducked out of the way of a glowing orange hex; it arched over his shoulder as he spun towards the ground. He tossed himself behind an overturned trash bin that had somehow ended up in the street. His green eyes looked over, spotting the caster dressed in auror robes.

Yep, good idea to be careful. He kneeled for a moment, trying to find his chance to move again. He rested his hand on the ground, pulling away when his fingers brushed something soft. His hands had rested against someone's robes, an older wizard dressed in mottled green. He was bound tightly, ropes wrapping around him from shoulder to knee.

Harry looked at him absently for a second, staying out of sight of any Death Eaters or aurors. The man didn't seem like much of a Death Eater, he thought. He had kind eyes, hidden behind chubby, Muggle-looking spectacles. And those eyes seemed to stare ahead mindlessly, almost as if he had been turned off. He lay in the dirt not putting up any sort of effort to move or untie himself. Rather odd really. His feet were still loose, he hadn't been knocked unconscious, and yet he lay there rather peacefully. If he hadn't blinked Harry might have thought he was dead. What was it about those eyes that was bothering him...he felt like he'd seen that sort of mindlessness before.

A short lull gave him the chance to get to his feet and move into one of the ally openings. Another spell struck the wooden shutter right where he had been, the dark energy burning into the material like some sort of acid. Harry shoo his head resignedly: he had feeling it would take some time to get back. He leaned against the wall and stared absently down the alley. Maybe he could work his way back behind the buildings...that idea was quickly extinguished when he saw a brick wall: this path was little more than a space to store trash.

It was also storing someone else and Harry's eyes narrowed.

"James!" Harry could only offer surprise. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

James Potter was crouched near the end of the small alleyway, his back pressed against the building across from Harry while much of his body was hidden behind a crate that had once held something called 'Mable's Elixir'.

"Harry," James offered with a grin.

"What are you doing here?" Harry found himself asking again. He crossed towards James, suddenly feeling like the parent of a disobedient child..

"You know," James offered, "doing what you're doing. Did you get to the girl and her mum okay? I wanted to help, you know, after..." James trailed off uncomfortably; Harry knew what he was referring to. Someone had once told him that people deal with terror in different ways. Most people did the sane thing: crawl into the fetal position and pray that it all ends soon.

He had to ask. "Don't you think that was a little stupid?"

James frowned. "Then why are you doing it?"

Harry could have answered. "Well, Dad, perhaps it's your ruddy genes that have me act this way." Blaming genetics was comforting sometimes, but as he didn't have an answer James would understand, he took to staring out toward the opening between the two buildings. Occasionally a body would flash by, or a glowing spell would cut the scene like a burning arrow. Maybe it was him, but the noise seemed to be growing more distant, the flashes of people less recent. Soon, only echoes of the confrontation were nearby.

Harry crossed to the opening of the alley, keeping James behind him. He listened closely, thinking perhaps he could risk sticking his head out for a look.

Another body suddenly darted into the shadows, charging into Harry with a force that wasn't quite enough to knock him down, but it was close. He dodged a punch as the figure swung its fists madly.

"Sirius, mate," James cheered.

Harry lowered his wand. Indeed, somehow the other Marauder had managed to stumble upon them.

Sirius grinned. His cheek was sporting a red mark that would likely blossom into a good bruise, and his shoulder bore a small patch of blood; otherwise, he looked fine.

"Finally! I've been looking for you. Popped into the Broomsticks and Remus said you'd headed out—wasn't pleased about it either."

"Where have you been?" James asked. He slung an arm around his friend, falling into a hug despite himself. They weren't really the type to hug, but that scene out there was making him realize some things. Like how precious little things like having a best mate can be.

Sirius returned the gesture, patting James and biting his lip. "Glad you're alright, mate," he said a little briskly.

They broke apart coughing and not looking at each other. "I was, er," Sirius began. "Well, Haley dragged me to Madame Puddifoots's, which was a rougher ordeal than what it looks like you've been through," he said with a cringe.

"Has it quieted down out there?" Harry asked, breaking into the conversation.

Sirius shrugged. "They've moved further down the street; think they might be trying to get away from the apothecary. Hell of a blaze, that."

"Let's get back to the Three Broomsticks then," Harry suggested. "It's only a few shops down: with the battle out the way, we should be able to get back easily."

"Awe no, let's go and lend them a hand," James argued.

Harry glared at him before ducking back into the sunlight. "You're not an auror yet, Potter," he said, feeling rather uncomfortable addressing James as such.

"They weren't all aurors out there," James pressed on. "Who do you reckon they were? Did more than the aurors." James had become somewhat pensive, falling into step beside Harry thoughtfully.

Harry found himself wondering why Sirius wasn't arguing as well. He and James both seemed eager for any excitement. He looked back to see the pure-blood wizard standing frozen only a few feet out from where they had been hiding.

"Sirius?" he questioned softly. A chill went down his spine when he turned to face Sirius.

It was there in his eyes: a distracted, powerless expression. He knew it looked familiar: the man with the glasses, bound and unmoving had looked the same. And Sirius, from his lessons—Harry knew why Sirius would look like this now.

Black's wand raised stiffly; he was in there somewhere, struggling for control. Harry moved toward him cautiously. But Sirius's wand wasn't pointed in his direction.

"Sirius?" James questioned. His hazel eyes showed no apprehension, no sense of concern or fear.

A blast of green light jumped from the Marauder's wand. It tore through the empty air chased by a scream.

-

A/N: Again a big hand to MeShelly. Not only did she have to edit this once, but twice. I rewrote half of this chapter at one point in all my revisions, and she endured through it all. As some likely noted, this chapter took longer to update than those previous. Frankly, I think it was important enough to have the delay. It is also my longest update ranking it at 30 pages. And, as I said, this is the second reincarnation of this chapter. As MeShelly, who had to endure the first would tell you (or maybe not as she is very nice), this version is much improved and you likely wouldn't have wanted to read the first as it was. (Crap my readers, utter unpublishable crap). As the next chapter is critical as well, I won't promise an update in a week, but I will be working on it steadily to try and bring you the next installment soon.

And of course, all errors are mine. Because I'm stubborn.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Cutting Time In Two

Day: 10 (continued)

-

It was Sirius's scream that tore through the air, following in the wake of a spell that would destroy everything that mattered to him. His arm swung wide at the last moment, sending the curse far over James's shoulder, a burst of willpower allowing him to break through the curse that was shackling him. He dropped his hands to his knees, taking in air as if he had been drowning.

Harry watched the scene numbly. It had been terribly close. He looked around cautiously, his head tilting slowly as he examined the area. The noise from the fight with the Death Eaters was filtering down the street, but otherwise there was no sign of life in this portion of the wizarding village.

"Impressive," a voice said from above.

Harry resisted the urge to swear violently; it was a voice that seemed disturbingly familiar.

Standing above a stationary store, dressed very plainly, a man with dark hair looked down on them. He seemed very ordinary, if perhaps a bit handsome even, his thin frame dressed in gray trousers, black vest and charcoal robes. His white shirt was buttoned up tight on his throat, making him look every ounce of respectable. His eyes, however, gleamed like hot coals, their red color unnatural but also somewhat fascinating.

Lord Voldemort took a step off the roof, stepping down as easily as if he were merely descending some stairs. Sirius stumbled to his feet as the man crossed elegantly toward them. A white wand that loked like carved bone looked delicate in his hand.

"I've heard of you, Sirius Black," he commented conversationally. "You've done well in your classes, Defense particularly. And now defending against an Unforgivable curse," His head tilted and he viewed Sirius through sideways eyes. "It's not something most can do. Your heritage is ancient and well known. But even you must admit that you've chosen the wrong path—it has cost you your family power and the wealth you'd have been given as the eldest son to the Black name." Voldemort's words hung over them as Sirius stared back, his lack expression was actually more of a danger.

Harry, couldn't help but feel almost amused. He had never been this close to Voldemort without inciting threats upon his person. Yet, those eerie red eyes weren't even glancing in his direction. He was nothing more than a bystander, a student not worth the Dark Lord's notice.

The man moved silkily, only a few steps forward, a faint look of, well it could almost be called appreciation. Harry was surprised how human the man looked; his voice was smoother as well, dripping from his mouth like venomous honey. "Join me, and I will restore your former glory—your family will welcome you back in their arms."

James scoffed and Harry silently agreed. Voldemort noted the gesture and his smile widened.

"If you would join me you'd be in a position to give protection to those whom you do claim," The dark Lord lowered his eyes on James, another shifting of expression that was difficult to read.

Sirius however bit his lip that hd been trembling slightly, "I'd never join you," Sirius ground out through his teeth, his face a mask of fury. His anger at the Dark Lord's threats seemed to have pushed all other emotions away. He wasn't afraid now.

Voldemort stood rather still, a small smile playing across his face.

"_Accio,_ " Harry called quickly.

The summoning charm jerked Sirius to the left pulling him off his feet just as a bolt of green light flashed where he had been. The light had leaped from Voldemort's wand with only a slight twist of his wrist, the same motion one might use when swatting a fly.

"You never took rejection well," Harry replied casually. He tried to sound as glib and unconcerned but he knew his face was tinged with anger. James had moved beside Sirius, his own eyes flashing. He helped Sirius to his feet, trying to stand beside Harry.

"And you are...?" Voldemort asked icily, his red eyes finally glancing in the young man's direction.

" Not really important, right? Names are _riddles_, after all." Harry's own expression grew cold. Why had he said that? _Better me than them,_ he thought—he could handle a Dark Lord's attentive eye.

Voldemort's expression flickered imperceptibly at the word "riddle". Suddenly Harry had his full attention. The Dark Lord raised his wand, running his slender fingers down the yew wood, a smile playing on his lips.

"You seem to know a great deal," he laughed softly. "But if you knew more you'd think wisely about airing such an attitude."

Harry elbowed James slightly; the young man had been edging closer and Harry'd prefer him anywhere but there. His gaze shifted around slightly, he had reason to believe that assistance would be arriving sometime soon—this was happening in the shadow of _Hogwarts_, after all. If he could drag this out longer he might be able to keep James and Sirius safe. They weren't supposed to die today.

"I know a lot of things," Harry agreed, moving his gaze back to Voldemort.

"Confidant," Voldemort said with a slightly mocking tone. "Fools always are. Have you learned the real secret yet, or are they still telling you bedtime stories about _good_ and _evil_." He looked away for moment, speaking to the air around him, "There is only power. Which I have." He turned back as his hand gestured around the small village, eyes alight at the destruction. The Apothecary still smoldered nearby, the scent of smoke heavy in the air.

"_Stupefy_!"

Harry started as a red glowing light burst from under his elbow, shooting toward the Dark Lord. He turned his head slightly to see James with his wand raised.

Voldemort batted the spell away like it was a fly, his distaste apparent as he looked at James.

"A Potter, I believe," he said, he looked closely at Harry and James. "I wasn't aware of two young Potters," he stated. His wand moved rapidly, a silver dart shot from the tip like an arrow. Harry conjured a wooden shield on the spot; the blade struck the wood with enough force to sink thee inches into the shield, its tip visible and pointed at James's head.

James moved forward just as quickly. "_Expelliarmus_," he cried. He jumped in front of Harry.

Voldemort didn't even need to dodge, following up with two red spells that coursed through air, burning like sparklers and leaving shattered light in their wake. Harry wasn't familiar with the magic, but the light spiraling around the three teens left him with a very bad feeling.

"Get down!" Harry dragged James and Sirius to the ground while creating a protective layer above them. The two spells met in mid-air, bursting into a flame so hot that even behind his protective shield, Harry began to sweat.

From their position on the ground Harry turned his head to face James, "What do you think you're playing at?" he cursed under his breath.

"Fighting against a Dark Lord," James deadpanned. "What were _you_ doing? Chatting him up, asking him to pop over for _tea_?"

"Point there," Sirius added.

"Stay out of this," Harry told him. "And you can follow that too," he directed this last bit a James, throwing in a glare for good measure.

"Why?" both asked simultaneously, their faces marred with rather identical expressions.

"It's like lecturing Fred and George," Harry decided suddenly feeling a sort of sympathy and sense of companionship for the Weasley matriarch.

Another spell burst from Voldemort's wand, striking the ground near Harry. The blast hit hard, sending pieces of the brick road through the air and firing shrapnel underneath the protective shield Harry had erected. Harry caught the worst of it, pieces of the sharp stone hitting his ear and tearing long cuts along the edges.

He clutched a hand to the side of his head for a moment, "Your way is working much better is it?" he gripped.

Harry pushing himself back into a crouching position, firing off a concussion hex and foot-tripping jinx; the blue and yellow spells shot so close together that for a moment it looked like a single green light. Voldemort would easily dodge them, or block them, but Harry used the distraction to summon a piece of debris that had probably once been apart of the Apothecary roof.

"Stay down," he ordered, tempted to lock James in a body bind.

"And how'd you become a bleeding expert?" James called back.

Harry ignored his father's protests as he rose to his feet, sweeping his wand downward motion as he did so, a faint yellow light sped from his wand, hardly noticeable on the sunny day. But before it even reached Voldemort's shield charm, it exploded, sending a blinding glare into the street.

Harry slapped a hand over his eyes at the last moment, keeping much of the light from hurting his own vision, he used the distraction to send a powerful slicing charm, the silver light leaping through the air flying through the air like the shine of a blade.

A piece of the broken street rose up to block the spell, the brick diced by the force of the spell.Voldemort pushed the rest aside with a wave of his wand. His suit, marred with some dirt from the upheaval of the street, was the only sign that he had been in a confrontation at all.

Harry wasn't tired. His magic was reacting to the need in the forceful, protective way that it had since the ward's collapse, and the energy burning in his chest was eager to be spent. Harry knew he would have to be careful not to let his anger and sincere hate of Voldemort color his intent. If this battle had to be, it would only be to protect James and Sirius. This could not be some renegade attempt at killing his parents' murderer.

"_Fractus_!" Harry shouted, he pointed his wand at the ground. The power behind the spell made it appear almost solid, a hammer of black light hit the street bucking the ground up three feet, creating a small division between the three Gryffindors and Voldemort. The power behind the spell made a ridge that was three meters at it's highest point and ran for over ten meters.

"Okay, that was pretty neat," Sirius muttered.

"How's that going to let you fight him?" James argued. His father was still blinking somewhat, the blinding blast of light seemed to have caught someone. Course he _would_ have been fine if he'd been behind the roof Harry mentally chided.

Voldemort's red eyes were watching him closely; Harry was feeling as if he were some sort of clever pet. While his expression didn't deviate from that carefully regulated smile, the rapid examination was easy to discern.

"Impressive, and I mean it this time," Voldemort said. "Black would have been amusing." He waved his pale hand dismissively. "But you are interesting."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "I thought you wanted to recruit him into your merry band of murderers and fiends—you were going to give him back his family and spare his loved ones right?" Harry's fingers twitched as he recalled Voldemort's offer.

The Dark Lord showed little concern at being caught in a lie. "I said it would be amusing, but you can't imagine I'd really want such a failure. You would be a good addition," he said softly.

"We both know you'll kill me for what I know," Harry said slowly, his own eyes never leaving the older man. He was not the monster Harry knew; that part of himself was still well-hidden behind a cunning guise.

"I'd never get rid of a useful tool," Voldemort allowed with a smile.

" _Stupefy_! _Expelliarmus_! _Incarcerous_/ _Tranfeso Animati_!" James had emerged again, his wand moving faster this time. His first three spells pointed at the Dark Lord—the fourth, however, struck another piece of roof, transfiguring it into a large dog that then turned to attack with a growl.

He had stood up from behind the shelter Harry had provided, his expression a mixture of pride and determination: he would have made an excellent recruitment poster.overdoing the overeagerness a bit; he is still really smart But the reality is never as good as the illusion. His spells were batted away and the dog was shattered into a thousand pieces.

Sirius reared up. "_Etico!_" A bolt of bluish lightning shot from his wand, fleeing through the air. The light striking the dark wizard and crisscrossing against his skin.

"Who's amusing now!" he crowed.

With a wash of energy that left them stumbling, the electrical energy died. "The adults are talking," Voldemort said patronizingly. He brushed his clothes, looking rather disdainful. With a subtle flick he shot an arching orb of blue light, forcing James to dive behind the piece of roof Harry had summoned.

"Are you being diverted by students?" The voice was familiar, but the speaker unseen. A weak tangle to bluish light shot from a direction opposite of the voices's origin. It got caught in Voldemort's sheild making the man offer a laugh that could almost sound genuine.

"Barten, Barten, you and your pathetic little games." The tone was almost jovial.

The Defense professor stepped forward from where the spell had been cast. Harry wondered for a moment how he managed to throw his voice like that. Still, whatever Voldemort claimed Harry thought it was a rather clever trick. Pity it hadn't worked.

Barten was walking with weary steps. He was sporting a cut on his cheek and another on his chin, the red seeping into the collar of his shirt and robe.

"Ah, Barten, I see you aren't wasting your time playing at auror anymore." Voldemort he laughed coldly his face twisting, "You've taken up the simple post of Defense teacher, how suitable a for a near-squib Mudblood." The insult was uttered with a slight snarl.

"I'm sure you'll be missed. _Avada Kedavra._" The green spell flew from Voldemort's wand, forcing Barten to join his students behind the chunk of debris. Sirius crouched, his wand clutched tightly in his hand as he peered over the . James was fuming, rubbing at his wrist with a frown. He'd landed on it in his recent dive for cover.

"Been busy Professor?" James asked.

Barten didn't seem terribly amused by the playful attitude. "This isn't the place for you."

"_Stupefy_ !" James cast fiercely turning his back on the professor. Harry rolled his eyes; at least his father was persistent.

Voldemort spun at the last minute, an excited expression on his face as he missed the red light by inches. James seemed to take some sense of courage from this, he rose to his feet and stood beside Harry.

Harry glanced back at the professor, silently urging him to take charge of the other two, a glum shrug from Barten was his only response.

James had fired another spell which Voldemort blocked with a wave of his wand. James wasn't bad, really; he had a fluidity that was above average and an ease in casting. It was only his lack of battle experience that made him a pain in the ass.

" For the last time, don't interfere," Voldemort snapped; once again, his distaste for James incited little emotion. He flung his wand out in a sharp flip, the end coming down hard. "_Crucio_!" he cast, the pronunciation a snarl.

Harry reacted instinctively, swinging between James and the spell; the magic locking into his nerves produced an unimaginable pain. He dropped to his hand and knees, screaming as the red hot magic burned through his body. Through the pain he forced his hand to keep hold of his wand, trying to think only of the grain of the wood under his fingers. The surplus of magic he constantly dealt with was rushing through his body faster than the pain.

"_Crutoes_," Barten cast, a jet of fiery orange light catching Voldemort's elbow as the man held the spell on Harry. The force of the Defense professor's spell forced the wand away.

Harry wheezed on the ground, trying to catch his breath. He shook his head, removing some of the fuzz that had latched onto his brain. He caught James's eyes somehow; his young father kneeled beside him, the expression on his face had lost all bravado. He stared at Harry as if he were watching the worst sight he'd ever seen. And maybe he was.

Barten had moved in the predictable professor manner, in other words, acting as a human shield. Harry could see his knees very well from his vantage point. His posture was lank and yet still defiant: he stood before the dark lord as other people had done. All those other people had died—Harry knew this well enough and he was certain Barten did too.

The wall that Harry had created to limit Voldemort's movements was working against Barten. The man's physical fighting skills were impossible to tap into without landing right next to the Dark Lord. Harry frowned, Barten was magically tired, and he'd likely been relying on physical attacks for some time now. But then, not many wizards could manage a Patronus and then engage in a fight with Death Eaters. Harry shakily rose to his feet, not certain if it was the remnants of the torture curse or his own hot magic coursing through his veins that left him feeling rattled.

Barten twisted his wrist back, his robes shoved back at his elbows. The oak wand he held came down with a striking motion that released a glowing blue light. Harry thought he felt a chill from the magic as it passed. But the spell splattered across the front of the ethereal glowing shield that Voldemort had conjured.

"_Fractinous,_" Voldemort cast in a bored manner. The red spell pushed Barten to the left, another spell, a muttered word and an orange streak of light, forced him to the right. Barten's physical ability was helping to strengthen his dueling, but his movements were slowing. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he moved to avoid another silent curse Voldemort had sent his way.

Harry knew a cat playing with a mouse when he saw one.

Barten raised his wand, his tired voice shouting a curse into the air. But a spell needed both power and concentration to be effective, and Barten was already losing what power he had to begin with.

Voldemort flicked his own magical tool, sending a fractured light spiraling away from him. Without pausing another silent burst of magic issued from his wand, a gray light that didn't seem to shine. The second spell was wide, flying through the air like a sledgehammer. Barten swerved for the first but couldn't correct for the massive blast of gray magic that caught his abdomen.

Harry heard a gasp behind him, James's eyes were opened wide.

The light absorbed into his body like water into a towel. For a moment, the Defense professor stood very still. His wand hand dropped slightly, almost as if to clutch at his stomach. Harry's green eyes narrowed and his mouth opened slightly. Barten's chest exploded outward.

Nothing Harry had seen could have prepared him for it. It was almost like a Muggle grenade had been released inside Barten: the muscle had exploded out, looking like raw meat under the glare of the sun. His intestines curled from thehis body like snakes. Barten's skin had paled to the color of milk, and the splattering of blood stood out in sharp contrast to the lack of color. His body dropped bonelessly, hitting the ground hard in a manner that made Harry think that some_ thing_ had fallen; Barten wasn't a person anymore. It lay in the dirt, blood filling the hole that had opened where the chest should be, eyes closed.

James stood mutely; a splattering of red made his face look freckled. Sirius had been closer than any of them and a side of his face was practically painted. He touched his cheek with his fingertips, his eyes widening when he realized that the wet coating his face was blood.

Harry swayed for only a moment when he stood to his feet.

"Now that has been taken care of," Voldemort allowed, tipping his head, a charming smile oozing from his face.

"Convincing," Harry muttered, looking down at the street at all the destruction. Harry could feel the magic within him struggling. A few pieces of brick and other debris pulled free of gravity and hovered unnoticed at ankle level. Harry focused on a sharp bit and sent it spinning, trying to put the excess magic to work.

"_Ventus_," Voldemort cast, a dark green blur shooting in Harry's direction; the light was quickly followed by a silent spell that barely displaced the air as it moved.

The magic hanging around him caught the spells like a spiderweb, trapping them in the air before him. Harry's mind continued to toy with the spinning brick, watching the speed increase as he pushed more focus. Unlike most wizards, Harry's magical levels didn't drop due to physical weariness; instead, they seemed to grow fed by his own

The spells caught in Harry's net fell to the ground like glass when he raised his head. Voldemort seemed to spy those green eyes and a thrill seemed to fill the air.

They both reacted at the same time, a crisscrossing of magic that made the air smell like ozone. The colors from the spells bled into each other and their voices bounced off the buildings in the village. The magical volley left them at a standstill as both fought the other with tightly controlled powers. It must have only lasted for less than a minute but when the pair paused the street was littered with scorch marks.

Harry propelled the still spinning piece of brick, and all the others that were floating nearby. One stone cut to the side, slicing through Voldemort's magical shields, its momentum too fast to control tightly. It drew a long gash along the Dark Lord's cheek. Those red eyes narrowed but there was no other emotion as Voldemort blasted a sharp edged silver spell that broke through the roof protecting James and Sirius, slicing through the debris like a knife. Sirius hissed and brought a hand to his shoulder, pressing into the sleeve of his shirt that was rapidly turning crimson.

"Lesson boy," Voldemort hissed, "you fools always have more to lose."

Harry nodded. "It's better than nothing."

" Bastard!" Sirius yelled letting his wrist rest upon the remaining structure. _"Foroctious!_" His spell arched wide, a spinning disc of magic that drove forward like a sledgehammer.

Voldemort's shield shuddered as the spell hit, forcing him back a few feet.

Sirius was breathing heavily, anger licking at his expression.

Voldemort raised his wand, preparing another spell for the Gryffindors, but Harry stepping away moving outside the ring of upraised road. The concussion hex was more reaction than skill but knocked Voldemort away from his intended targets.

Harry pulled to the right, nearing the Dark Lord with a faint, challenging gleam in his eyes. It was almost as if the world had stopped. The smoke stopped coming from the Apothecary, the air died to nothing. There was a sense of expectation in this confrontation and Harry found himself forgetting some important things. Like where and when he was. Looking at the Dark Lord he had a tired feeling; he'd done this too many times.

Harry wasn't prepared for the blast of black energy that spiraled toward him, moving with a fluidity that sliced through the air. There was something hypnotic about that light—he only managed to spin out of reach a second before it would have hit his face.

Harry responded quickly, his magic reaching out and grabbing the debris on the ground and throwing debris through the air like horizontal rain.

Voldemort blocked fairly well, pushed most of it away, fragments breaking through and tearing at his clothing. But this seemed to matter little, his arm reached over his hand and moved behind like a lasso, a spell that looked like a whip of fire sprang from his wand.

Harry did what seemed natural, he pushing back with a wall of water that met the Dark Lord's spell in the space between them, sending up a wave of steam that hissed thunderously between them.

Behind him, Voldemort laughed, a high tone that brought back Harry's nightmares and he forgot himself again. He might have plunged ahead, bearing down on the Dark Lord with all his surplus magic, but he realized that the steam wasn't fading. It was filling the air; not disappearing like a cloud but keeping a solid shape. Harry could see Voldemort grinning, or rather baring his teeth, through the mist that continued to hiss.

Hissing, indeed, in a way that was starting to seem vaguely intelligible.

"_Attack_ ," came a hissed order, forcing Harry to turn in the Dark Lord's direction. He quickly looked upward at the swirling mist, its shape now fully formed. It was serpentine but without much distinction a curl of steam that made the air hot. A blast of scalding steam ripped through the air, it hit the brick near Harry leaving the masonry unmarked by anything except moisture. However, Harry didn't need to experience the creature's 'touch' to understand the danger represented. He was sweating already from being close to the monster.

"_Left_ ," Voldemort hissed, sending the creature down on Harry. He spun out of the way of a direct hit but he gritted his teeth to avoid yelling out as his hand managed to catch some of the spray. Saying it like that minimized it, the feeling was akin to sticking your hand in a pot of boiling water. In moments the back of his hand was already turning red. The thing was massive: there was no blocking it.

There wasn't a mouth on this thing that Voldemort had created, and while the steam hissed, it remained indistinct to Harry's ears. Yet as Harry observed it he noticed the creature move even further to his left, Harry glanced over his shoulder shook in head.

It had to be a bloody Thursday—there was no way this was Saturday.

"_Stop_ ," Harry ordered, his voice just as firm and commanding, as if he knew it would work. There was no way that it would, actually. "_Stop_!" he repeated, if only because of the futility of the situation. Damn it; how did one stop a monster made of steam? He must have dozed off in one of his Defense classes because he really didn't recall them covering this.

But for all the futility his hissed order did seem to make a slight difference.

The steam creature seemed to still, the hissing noise increased. Harry looked hopeful. Well, that would be nice.

"You," Voldemort's human voice came through the hissing, filled with an odd interest. Harry realized now why the beast had stopped.

He focused on the Dark Lord, using this moment of distraction to think clearly. His wrist twisted along the tip of his wand to spin in a tight circle, not casting but letting power flicker near the tip.

"You are mine, boy. There is no doubt. We are the same, and no one else would have you but me." Voldemort's words were uttered with a knowing tone that sickened Harry; but the mention of rejection sent his eyes flickering toward James. Sirius and James were the only ones near enough to have heard his Parseltongue command. Call him a coward, but he couldn't look. He didn't want to know what he'd see.

Harry's wand twisted and turned; the magic that was building beneath the tip was so icy cold that Harry felt the skin on his hand stiffen from the chill.

"I might have been looking for acceptance once," he said without looking at James, "but I'm my own now." He didn't yell; it was his magic that diced open the sky, not his voice—a fearsome twist of blue and silver light striking the stream serpent. The spell was co cold that the temperature dropped five degrees. The creature hissed louder, its screeches making those near cower. The thing broke apart, raining down as if a cloud had burst open. The street was soaked in water; puddles piled up in the holes that had been created and the blood around Barten diluted some and began seeping among the cracks in the brickwork.

Harry heaved as he looked down at the ground, the magic still heavy around him, leaving a chill to the sunny day. He was drenched from head to toe, his black, messy hair laying flat against his face, his clothes dripping. Not far from him the Dark Lord was in a similar condition, but Voldemort's quickness of breath was more from anger than exertion. His temper, usually well-contained, broke to the surface. He looked around angrily, his wand moving to the side and capturing a metal bench in a black energy.

The bench flew through the air, aimed at Harry's head with a reckless force.

Harry reacted more on instinct than thought. His wand jerked upward sharply, blasting the bench with a banishing charm.

Harry watched numbly at what happened next, the bench was revolving, so fast that one of the legs struck Voldemort's wand arm fiercely as it passed. The bench kept flying, finally finding its resting place in the window display of the stationary store, scattering paper and quills throughout the street.

Voldemort stood stiffly, silent; his arm was bleeding heavily, a piece of bone visibly jabbing through his skin and robe, his fingers just barely managing to keep his wand from tumbling between his fingers.

Harry would later find it amusing that the closest he'd come to defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort, since he was a baby would involve a metal bench. Power the Dark Lord knows not, eh? Well-crafted British ironwork, a possibility indeed.

But he was spared this humorous introspection when a loud pop heralded another arrival. Albus Dumbledore looked even more impressive than he did in Harry's years. He swept into the village, his turquoise robes looking very sharp under the bright sun. He turned toward Voldemort, his wand raised and a grim expression making him look very different from the friendly headmaster he was known to be.

"This isn't over," Voldemort said to Harry, making no notice of the pain that must have been coursing through his arm.

Harry nodded.

With a pop, Tom Riddle was gone, leaving nothing but destruction to show he had been there.

"Mr. P—Tempus," Dumbledore said, nearing him steadily.

"Nice timing," Harry said his eyes flashing, he adopted a false mocking tone. "Busy buying lemon drops, were you?"

Dumbledore examined him as Luna might examine a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. "Not quite so enjoyable. The Minister needed some of my time." He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder cautiously.

Further up the street, another troupe of aurors had emerged and began to march about in a very official looking manner. Harry wondered why he'd ever wanted to be an auror.

"I'll see to matters, if you're alright..."

Harry nodded, dismissing the concern and gesturing toward the Ministry employees.

He watched as the old man walked away. Dumbledore was in his element, easily finding the person in charge and establishing some control over the situation. Harry wondered how he did it, but then being either Headmaster or teacher to most of the wizards in England did give him plenty of blackmail: the old man had the goods on him.

Another batch of aurors arrived and soon the figures were crowding the street. Harry watched as they broke apart looking for any stragglers, but it seemed that the battle was done.

Harry wheezed. It was surprising, but for once, Dumbledore's arrival didn't save him; it didn't trumpet a feeling of relief. Harry didn't know how he felt. Despite knowing better, he _did_ feel a desire to defeat Voldemort now, back in this time when he couldn't destroy so much of Harry's life. This was perhaps a very normal response, but no one would be able to foresee what such meddling might result. Thus, when you considered the consequences, Dumbledore had saved him yet again. The barmy old codger.

"Harry! HARRY!" James had approached without his noticing and waved a hand in front of his face. Harry looked up negligently.

"Yeah?" he asked, not giving James much of his attention and looking out at the town instead. Another group had arrived. They didn't look military issue, as those previous, and were seeing to the Apothecary fire and assisting the townsfolk who were emerging from their hiding places.

Harry found himself moving back to where Sirius was still sitting, leaning against the shattered remains of the Apothecary roof that had guarded them well. He avoided looking at Barten. A bunch of aurors were crawling all over him. Harry didn't know what they hoped to do; maybe just clean up the mess. The dead and injured were all being portkeyed away, probably to St. Mungos, with little distinction being made between them. In a moment, Barten was gone as well, leaving only a street stained with blood and still drenched in water.

Sirius stood up straighter when they neared, watching the rescue operation in the same uninterested manner that Harry was. It had been a difficult afternoon for the young Gryffindors. James was sporting a large scrape on one side of his face that would probably blossom into an impressive bruise.Sirius bore a similar mark from earlier and his shoulder was looking gruesome. He'd wrapped some cloth around it and Harry trusted that it would keep until he was subjected to Madam Pomfrey's tender mercies. He was actually a bit more curious about how they were mentally handling all this. He hadn't heard much out of James since the Cruciatus curse and Barten's violent death. Still as they stood among the wreckage Harry wasn't about to ask.

"Harry, how did you do that?" James asked, striding beside his dorm mate.

"Practice," Harry answered tiredly. "You know, makes things perfect and all that. Eat your sweets." He shrugged, not meeting James's eyes.

"Harry!"

The shout forced Harry to look up, meeting a similar pair of green eyes. Lily's red hair was scattered about messily and she tripped over the debris in the street as she ran towards them. Harry was a little surprised at the concern she demonstrated, but he accepted it without question.

"Hey, Lily," he replied weakly.

"I wanted to come and help but everyone was so frightened in the Three Broomsticks, and then I thought maybe I'd only make it worse..." She trailed off once she'd gotten close enough. She patted his arm and gnawed at her lip. "Are you alright?"

Her question was met with a smile as Harry stood in the street, watching as the cleanup crew continued to hustle about. More citizens were emerging; with the aurors, rescue workers and Hogsmeade residents, the streets were filling up. Harry ducked behind his friends when he saw the injured woman and girl he had helped earlier. She seemed to be looking around for a moment but one of the rescue workers spotted her still-bleeding arm and whisked her away before she had a chance to thank her hero.

But the rescue workers and aurors didn't seem to be the only people who had come; Harry spotted a handful of reporters and photographers. They were wandering through the carnage like buzzards, asking the dazed victims for firsthand accounts.

Harry wasn't worried until he noticed a pair of journalists over at the Three Broomsticks. Rosemerta spoke to them hurriedly, raising her hand and pointing in the teenagers' direction.

The pair, one tall, the other short, hurriedly crossed over.

"You boys are quite the heroes, standing up against You-Know-Who," the short, weedy-looking reporter said. He tapped his chin with a pencil before poising it on a small notepad. "Anything you want to tell our readers? What sort of curses did he throw at you? Did you think you'd die? Which of you fought back?" The man rattled off a list of questions and no one seemed eager to respond; even James's love for the limelight seem to be doused at the moment.

Flash.

Harry blinked as the tall man with the magical camera took a picture of their little group, green smoke rising into the air.

"We didn't really do much," James finally said, looking at the ground. He glanced at Harry.

"No comment," Harry said coolly, taking a cue from famous movie stars.

The reporter zeroed in on him. "Come on, boy: what did you have to do with it? Three witnesses said that a dark-haired young man fought the Dark Lord. Which of you was it?"

James, Sirius and Harry all had dark hair. They glanced at the others, James raising in eyebrows in a manner that seemed to be urging Harry to step up and take his reward.

Harry's equally stony expression had them each remaining quiet.

"If you don't want to tell me, fine," the annoying reporter said. " I can make the story just as interesting with any of you. What year are you in school? Sixth? Seventh?"

"I don't think this is really any of your business," Lily said in a snotty manner. "You and your kind are just blocking the apparation points that emergency personnel need." She had crossed her arms and looked every inch the prefect she was.

The photographer snapped another picture, blinding them for a moment.

"He's the one," an old man said, wobbling over on a cane. His crooked finger pointed out Harry to an Auror. "He fought the Dark Lord and saved us all," the man rasped.

"Some questions, if you don't mind," an auror said, bustling the reporter out of his way. The small journalist simply hunkered down a bit, his ear almost directly below the auror's elbow.

Another flash had them all blinking as the photographer managed to get an auror into the shot.

"If you'd follow me for a moment?" the auror asked Harry, trying to tug him away. The man was tall with ginger hair and a heroic looking chin.

Harry dug in his heels. "And why should I be following you? I didn't have anything to do with this."

"YOU blasted A BENCH through my shop, sob, window!" the owner of the stationary store yelled, his voice quivering either because of anger of sadness. The frazzled old man kept tugging at his shoulder-length hair as he examined the damage to his shop. His face really was the most amazing shade of puce.

"Well, it's not like that was on purpose!" Harry argued right back. "It was sort of...flung my way."

This seemed to enough of a confirmation to send the reporters into a buzz. A few more of the scavengers had gathered, clamoring for attention.

"How did you fight the—well, you know who?" A red head with a bad perm asked, shoving her way past a bunch of old witches who had huddled near him gaping.

"What's your connection to the Dark Lord?!" the weedy man from earlier shouted, not to be outdone by his competition.

"What's your name?" questioned a strict-looking man with a thin moustache.

Harry smiled as one might when faced with a rabid dog. "Well, now, I really must be going—cake in the oven, got to feed the cat, hate to...but, hey, really must run." Harry politely ploughed his way through the gathering crowd, even managing to lose the auror who was following him by sliding behind a group of dim-witted teenagers that were standing around not really certain of what to do.

Those dim-witted teenagers managed to block the path nicely. They were especially useful considering one of them looked a fair bit like the young wizard who was the center of attention.

"Wait there, young man," an older auror with thick grey hair said, pinching the look-a-like's ear and tugging him back into the crowd.

"Ow," James groused as the auror didn't show any sign of releasing his lobe from the vice-like grip. "I'm not him!" he yelled, lifting his hand and gesturing toward Harry who was escaping in the direction of Hogwarts.

His gesture spurred the crowd to pick up its pursuit, James remaining behind and frowning as he rubbed his ear.

The tall photographer from earlier must have been a sprinter at one time (he certainly had long enough legs), or maybe his skills had been built by chasing celebrities. He managed to draw near and snap another picture of Harry's retreating back, which oddly enough caused Harry to pause and turn around.

"_Accio_," Harry called, yanking the magical camera from his pursuer's grasp.

"Hey!" the photographer yelled taking a few march-like steps forward.

Harry had already turned around and was examining the magical camera with a smile on his face. The speedy photographer was quickly on his tail, and tapped Harry on the shoulder in an irritated manner.

"That's private property," the man began to say, taking a deep breath. "The newspaper has a right to print the news if it is newsworthy, freedom of the press and—" It was the sort of tirade that any good rag pusher would memorize, and the man was somewhat shocked, or so his expression seemed to say, when he was locked in a full body bind and left lying in the street.

When the photographer's report-partner arrived he was released, but only looked up to see that the crowd from earlier had gathered beside him, watching the young wizard, but not pursuing him.

"He took my camera," the man complained, mostly to himself because he realized that no one looked particularly sorry for him.

"Who's gonna stop him?" Sirius Black questioned, causing the heads around him to nod.

The photographer was left to bemoan his purloined property without much commiseration as Harry Potter, the nameless hero of Hogsmeade, wandered up the path to Hogwarts and out of sight.

The crowd soon dispersed. The teachers had arrived and, after huddling around Dumbledore, they began rounding up students still in the village and pushing them to Hogwarts as well; James and his comrades were treated no differently. They had lingered for a moment longer, watching the spectacle, but McGonagall was soon giving them the boot, her sharp eyes ignoring their protests and pushing them along.

Most of the other students were walking ahead, the crowd of heads appearing and disappearing on the winding path. Lily was among them; she'd caught up with Morgan and seemed more than eager to leave James and his friends behind now that Harry was gone.

"Where do you think Harry went?" Remus asked. He was walking next to Sirius, slowing his steps to match Sirius's stride as the Marauders wearily began working their way back to the school. While none of them had been badly injured, they all felt drained from the ordeal. Peter hadn't said a word since the group was reunited, and James didn't try to draw him into a conversation despite walking beside him.

"Back to the school, I suppose," Sirius said, he looked behind him at the village.

"I think maybe we should talk to him about this. You know, before the rest of the school gets a hold of him." Remus looked ahead; the transfer student didn't seem to enjoy attention much. It stood to reason that he could use some friends to get through the coming week. Merlin help him when the reporters found out: he might prefer a Dark Lord.

"Yeah, maybe," Sirius answered distractedly. He glanced back at James, but James Potter's face was set firmly, nodding along with Remus.

"Yeah." He glanced at Sirius. "He'll need friends."

"Where do you think he'd go, the dorm?" Remus speculated.

Sirius shrugged.

"Wait a tick," James paused. Digging into his pockets. James's pockets really were the most amazing things: they were known to hold practically anything, his mother had charmed them to be bigger inside than out. He reached his arm in past his elbow, finally pulling out a piece of parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," James chanted, tapping the parchment.

"You found it?" Sirius asked. He fell back a bit until he was walking beside James. Peter got shuffled out of the way a bit and trailed behind, seemingly not interested.

"Yeah, it was buried in an old Transfiguration book—can't even imagine how it got there." James scratched his head in a puzzled manner.

Remus snorted and continued walking ahead. "I can; your trunk is a mess."

The three paused and Peter kept walking, until he finally seemed to have moved as far away from them as he dared to go. He shuffled from foot to foot.

"Come on, guys," Peter called. "Let's get back to the castle."

"Just a minute," James argued, not looking up. "Harry, Harry..." James peered closely at the parchment. The map didn't show Hogsmeade but it showed a good bit of the path that led up to the Hogwarts grounds. It had been added only the past year, after they'd nearly bumped into McGonagall heading down to the village one evening. (Sirius claimed she was probably on a date but the thought of the Transfiguration teacher dating was too disgusting to consider and so the discussion was promptly dropped.)

"Let's go," Peter urged again.

"If you want to go back so bad, well, go on then," Sirius snapped angrily.

Peter shut his mouth and remained a slight distance from the others.

The transfer student couldn't be that far ahead. James scanned the trail leading up to the grounds, skipping over the mass of students that were ahead of them.

"There, Harry..." James stared blankly at the small dot that was standing just outside the castle's gates.

"What is it, James?" Remus asked.

James stood woodenly, his eyes glued to the two short words imprinted on the map."The map...never lies...?" he asked, voice cracking with doubt.

Remus lifted an eyebrow, stopping to look back at the frozen teenager. It was an odd question coming from James, as he had been the one to find the 'seeing spell' which allowed the map to see things as they really were, not tricked by disguises or even animagi forms.

"I—someone else needs to tell me that they are seeing this." James pushed the map away and handed it to Sirius.

"What am I looking for?" his friend asked.

"Harry. He's up by the gates. Um—see anything odd?"

"Nope," Sirius answered with a shrug.

"What do you mean, 'nope'?" James jerked the paper away, scrutinizing the parchment.

"I mean 'nope' as in, there is nothing there. Harry isn't there. Where did you see him?"

James's eyes flickered over the page. He shook his head. "I saw him there a moment ago. He couldn't have disappeared so fast."

"What was the matter, anyway?" Remus asked.

James paused for a moment. "I thought...well, I thought I saw his last name."

"So?" Sirius asked, turning to Remus with a curious look.

"And it was 'Potter'," James answered, his mouth feeling dry.

"POTTER, BLACK, and Mr. Lupin—I'm surprised at you." Professor McGonagall was trudging up behind them, her pointed hat askew. She yanked it off her head as she neared them, slapping it against her leg irritably. "What do you think you are doing? Get back to the castle. Mr. Black, you need to be in the hospital wing! I should have had you all Portkeyed there. Now stop straggling." She took their shoulders and lead them toward the castle. She didn't even need to say a word to know that Remus would follow.

James had reacted on instinct to the sound of a professor's voice and had stuffed the map out of sight, but he sorely wanted to take it out and find the little dot labeled Harry Potter.

-

A few insignificant moments prior.

-

Harry stuffed the magical camera into his trunk, looking hesitantly at the Boa Vine. It really wasn't looking good; he had to plan some time for sun, maybe. Still, he closed the lid of the trunk for the moment, shrinking it before stuffing it back in his pocket.

He grinned slightly at his latest achievement: snagging that camera was a real lucky break.

Oh, and the Voldemort thing had gone well, too. At any rate, he hadn't killed his parents which was always a positive thing for any time traveler. He was starting to worry less about what his intentions back there had been; it had all worked out for the best, yeah? Not worth quibbling about now at the moment. He might have to hide out for a few days, but he supposed that Dumbledore could contain any overly curious Ministry officials and infuriating reporters.

He was nearing Hogwarts's gates, walking towards them at a steady pace. The sun was getting a little lower and some clouds were moving in. Maybe there will be a storm tonight, he mused. Maybe it would help in washing things away.

Harry paused for a moment to enjoy this, to simply enjoy his continued existence. It was then that he noticed the chill. He found himself wondering for a moment if his magic was remembering the bolt of cold he had sent at that snake-like steam. But then he realized that it was coming from inside of him, coursing up his spine and covering his skin in goose-flesh.

_Yes_, he thought. _This seems about right._

And with that, Harry Potter disappeared.

-

James Potter and Sirius Black had finally been released from the Hospital Wing. Remus had been the lucky one: he'd managed to leave an hour ago with only a bar of chocolate. Sirius and James had been captured by the enemy. Indeed, Madame Pomfrey's rant had been more an ordeal than what had happened in Hogsmeade. Apparently Sirius's shoulder was worse off than even he knew, they got an earful for that. ("Did you WANT to loose your arm?") A few scraps and bruises, which she'd left as a lesson, still existed but any major injury was completely healed. Sirius thought the shoulder wound would give him a sexy scar. Something that he seemed to think would really aid in 'wooing the ladies', as if the dog needed any help.

James finally got a chance to look around through his pocket again, fishing out the map and opening it up. He hadn't been able to wipe it clean earlier and so the lines and moving dots were still present. He scanned the page trying to find some evidence of Harry Tempus, or Potter as the case may be.

"Looking for your brother?" Sirius teased.

"We don't know...he might not be my brother," James argued.

"Face it, Prongs: your dad's got a secret branch on the family tree." Sirius moved on ahead a bit. "Let's head to the Hall for dinner; I'm starving. Your brother will probably be there."

James's face had a sour expression as he continued searching the document: the Great Hall was empty of any Harry Potters.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black," another voice intruded. James once again hid the map into his pockets; he really had to be more self-aware. Then again, it wasn't everyday you learned of your bastard half-brother.

"Evening, Headmaster," he answered, offering a weak smile.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen Mr. Tempus?" the older man asked.

James blanched. "Er, no sir."

The old man looked thoughtful for a moment. "As I had thought," he said simply. "I hope you boys are planning on a dinner after today's difficulties. Nothing like a rich pudding to remedy such trying times."

James nodded. "Yes, sir." He cringed upon realizing that he was sounding a little too obedient.

The headmaster moved away towards the dungeons, and James sagged.

"We'll find Tempus later and you can ask him. Maybe he was adopted or something, don't know where the map gets the names from," Sirius said with a shrug. "I'm hungry."

James paused. "Sirius, about today..."

"I wouldn't have done it," Sirius said suddenly. He looked away, almost as if he couldn't look at James. "I didn't, I wouldn't have..."

"Huh?" James quirked his head, confused about the course of this conversation.

"When I was, you know...well, I didn't do it. You're well, you know I wouldn't, right...?" Sirius looked at the empty halls.

James slowly realized what they were talking about. "Of course you wouldn't." He slung an arm around Sirius's shoulder. "Marauders don't AK other Marauders. I think that's a rule somewhere—have to have Moony check the mission statement or something."

Sirius's shoulders sagged some, releasing the tension that had been holding him so stiffly.

" No, what I was thinking about was...well, you heard Tempus, didn't you? _Hissing_ to the Dark Lord."

Sirius nodded.

"I was thinking we wouldn't mention that to anyone. He sort of saved our lives—"

"I wasn't planning on it," Sirius stated sincerely.

James glanced his way, dropping the mental arguments he'd been preparing. "I expected righteous indignation. Well, he must be a Parselmouth."

Sirius looked ahead. "Doesn't matter to me— not if it's _him_, anyway," he stated.

"Nor to me," James agreed.

The Great Hall was ablaze with voices. The students who had been in the village were running at the mouth while the younger years were eagerly listening. Speculation about the 'Battle of Hogsmeade' was running rampant. Of course, most of the people who were doing the talking hadn't been anywhere near the battle, not from what James had seen anyway. Really, they all seemed a little stupid: gossiping and chatting about it as if it had been an exciting Quidditch match. James found himself getting angry, and he glared at a fourth year who was richly detailing the deaths of the first auror squad. Those listening to him "oohed" and "ahhed", making him want to punch them. And physical violence usually wasn't his thing.

Remus and Peter had saved them some seats and he plopped down grumpily. The food hadn't arrived yet so he focused on his plate, trying to ignore the stares and comments that were erupting around him.

Remus was talking about something but James found it hard to pay attention. Bill Hodgins, a fifth year Gryffindor, was sharing what little he'd managed to see of Harry's battle with Voldemort.

"Then Professor Barten shows up and tries to take on the Dark Lord. They fought and Barten was pretty amazing. Tempus got hit with some curse and just started screaming."

James frowned at the implied tone. Tempus had taken a Unforgivable for him; even if the guy was his bastard half-brother, he wasn't going to sit by when others talked bad about him.

Hodgins continued, unaware of Mt. James and its increasing chance of explosion. "Then I saw Barten start fighting the Dark Lord. He was amazing! He dodged and started around—he even hit, well, you know, with a curse to save Tempus."

"What happened next?" a young girl asked, glancing up at the teacher table. Barten was nowhere in to be seen.

"I don't know," Hodgins said with a shrug. "It was then that they got this idea to board up the windows with some of the tables."

"I heard Tempus fought the Dark Lord," another fifth year chimed in.

"He couldn't do that," another person stated.

" I heard Barten's _dead_," a girl with pigtails added.

Hodgins glared at her. "Who told you that?"

The girl shrugged.

James glared at his plate. This wasn't something to gossip about: it wasn't a scandal or prank. Suddenly, he vividly remembered Tempus thrashing on the ground, his mouth like a gaping wound as he screamed. And Barten. James took a sip of water. He suddenly wanted to take a scorching hot shower. All of their professor's blood had been magically wiped from his person, yet he could almost still feel the spray that had coated his face. It was almost like he was back there—he had really thought he was going to die. To hell with that, he really _could _have died. It wasn't a "what if?" Given the odds, it was probably more likely that he wouldn't have walked away from that.

"Shut it!" Sirius yelled beside him, knocking him from his thoughts. "Don't talk about what you don't understand."

The students near them quieted before whispering began again. About what, James thankfully couldn't hear.

"Stupid little pricks," Sirius muttered.

"You can't blame them from being curious," Remus said softly. "What did happen?"

"Barten died and Tempus fought Voldemort until Dumbledore came," Sirius said simply, not bothering to elaborate.

Remus seemed filled with his own curiosity but knew that this wasn't the time to ask. James was glad of his friend's tact; he really didn't want to go through it again either.

James managed to glance down the table. Lily was patting Alice's arm gently, her lovely face drawn in concern. The usually friendly blonde was very pale; she kept licking her lips and her eyes looked red.

"What happened to Alice?" James asked, looking toward Remus.

The werewolf shifted uncomfortably. "I heard that Frank is still in the Hospital Wing; they may have to send him to St. Mungo's. Apparently they got caught in some crossfire past where we were." Remus's gaze seemed a little flinty as he glanced at Alice.

James swallowed. It could have been worse, couldn't it?

"Excuse me," Dumbledore called out, tapping the staff table with his wand. James looked up at him, numbly. This produced no effect, giving the Headmaster the opportunity to let off purple sparks, something he very much enjoyed doing.

The room quieted to a lull. "Good. Now, I know we are all concerned about the event that happened in Hogsmeade. It was indeed very troubling. I think we all rest relieved that no Hogwarts students were killed today."

James noted the man didn't mention the staff.

"This dark time is growing; I will not do you the dishonor of lying to you. There will likely be more such events before we emerge from these troubling times. But I want all of you to understand," the old man paused for a moment, "I sincerely want all to understand that even among the darkest of times...there is always the hope for the light."

Dumbledore paused looking toward the left. From his chair, Slughorn nodded.

"Good. Well, in better news, our caretaker Mr. Filch has discovered a very noxious mold growing in the castle. Professor Pod examined it and has informed me that the spores are very dangerous."

The students all seemed to choke slightly. They looked at each other with much confusion. How was this better news?

"I did?" Pod asked, looking bewildered. "Well, I must have," he finally agreed.

"Yes. Thankfully, our Potions Master has provided everyone with a potion that will protect you from any of the dangerous effects, such as: pustules, swollen lips and tongues, permanent discoloration of skin, increased body odor and..." He coughed before continuing, "In males, the shrinking of specific portions of the anatomy. So I encourage you to all drink up."

The students were grimacing. One first year with braids asked why only men had to worry about shrinking.

Several house elves moved between the aisles, carrying large baskets filled with little bottles of Slughorn's antidote.

Sirius eagerly snagged a bottle. He winked at a seventh year girl. "Never fear," he said with no trace of mocking, "Little Sirius will be well guarded." The girl colored while her friends giggled.

Soon most of the student body had thrown back their heads and guzzled down Slughorn's rather foul-looking potion.

"Have to warn Harry about the mold," James said, looking at the small vial.

"Huh?" Sirius asked. He made a grimace and took a sip of water to try and wash some of the taste away.

James drank deeply from the small vial, chocking back the liquid as it clung heavily to his throat. If he had to categorize it, he'd speculate that it was made out of chili powder and an old shoe.

"Harry who?" Sirius asked.

James looked at his best mate. "Huh? What hairy?" He scratched his head.

"You said we had to tell Harry about the mold," Sirius reminded him. He cocked his eyebrowsdel, looking very confused.

"Harry who?"

"Is there an echo in here? That's what I said." Sirius paused, an all-knowing expression taking over his features. "Oh, I get it; not very funny." He clucked his tongue and gave James an unforgiving look.

"What?" James looked at his plate. Was the food coming soon? He couldn't understand Sirius on an empty stomach.

" Trying to prank me—you'll have to get up _pretty_ early in the morning to pull the wool over this dog's eyes," Sirius claimed. He shook his head and turned back to Remus.

"When was I...?" James was interrupted from trying to figure out his best mate when the food arrived. "Good, I'm starving. Risking life and limb makes me hungry." He quickly reached across and pulled some chicken onto his plate, as well as a good helping of pudding.

The other students around him were joining in as well. They were discussing the battle in Hogsmeade still and James tried to focus on his food. The fight hadn't been anything like he had thought that it would be like. It wasn't nearly as noble as his imagination had painted: reality was more dirty and unfair. He'd been a fool to think about playing hero. Why had he left the Three Broomsticks anyway?

Now that he considered that, he realized he was a little fuzzy about some things in general, but then he supposed trauma did that. It seemed like the sort of thing that a Healer would say. On the other hand, some images were emblazoned in his mind. He glanced at Barten's empty seat at the staff table and tried to eat.

The professors themselves seemed less than hungry, perhaps because they were already hearing some of the statistics from the attack on Hogsmeade. They muttered to themselves as Dumbledore passed the vials of potion among the staff.

"How did such a dangerous mold happen to grow here?" McGonagall asked, an obvious attempt to break away from the gloom surrounding their previous conversation. The headmaster was correct: the knowledge of a dangerous mold was less troubling and it proved a wonderful distraction for the moment.

"I suspect that the house-elves may have been slacking," Professor Pod said very seriously. He swallowed his dose, gagging and taking a sip of juice.

The small elf carrying the potions looked scandalized.

Dumbledore smiled gently at the creature. "I'm sure that wasn't it," he said simply. "If you wouldn't mind dropping in on the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey, they will need to drink these as well. Poppy already knows they are coming but I want you to see that everyone drinks."

The small determined elf nodded, the creature looking haughtily at Professor Pod before disappearing to the Hospital Wing.

Along the line, the professors drank as well. Out of the corner of his eye, the headmaster watched closely to make sure they did. Finally, only Slughorn and himself remained.

"You know, we're quite lucky that the Ashwinder finally laid her eggs; otherwise, I'd never have been able to finish the potion in time. The entire thing would have been ruined," he commented while moving the vial between his hands.

"Yes." The headmaster looked further down the table at Professor Kettleburn, whose hands were hastily wrapped in a white bandage. "It is lucky, I suppose." He smiled at Slughorn. "You too old friend," he directed.

"Surely I..."

"It's better we don't know." Dumbledore issued the words with a finality.

The tubby little walrus of a man sighed. "Well, if you insist. Still, he was quite an interesting lad. You think we'll see him again?" He toyed with his moustache before raising the glass to his lips.

"I guarantee it," the headmaster replied with a slow smile.

"That's nice, then." Slughorn tipped his own potion back, scrunching his nose at the unpleasantness of the flavor. "If only one could get them to taste better, but then— these sort of anti-bacterial things usually are most foul."

Dumbledore nodded, tucking his own potion in his pocket.

-

Later that night, the headmaster wrote a short letter to himself, before following like all the other inhabitants of the castle and drinking the potion. After drinking the concoction he realized he was tired and went to bed.

The next morning, he discovered a note on his desk. It was written in his hand and said simply, _Do Not Open Until 1996._ Well, that was a ridiculous suggestion and if he knew himself as well as he thought he did, then he must have known that he was terribly impatient. He ripped open the letter examining the parchment though his spectacles.

_Dear Myself,_

_You have undoubtedly opened this letter early. I would hazard to guess that it is not the year 1996—in fact, I would be surprised if you have waited even a day. I am tempted to place some sort of hex on the envelope as punishment, but that really would just be hurting myself._

_As the next few weeks will probably be very confusing, I wanted to provide a little information to soften the irritation:_

_I think the future will be better. That is cheering isn't it. _

_Oh, and in the year 1996, Professor Binns with dust a class with Time Sand again._

_Yours, _

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

He stared at the letter for a moment before reaching into a drawer for one of his favorite candies.

The future would be better? What an oddly cheerful if unhelpful thing to say. He had undoubtedly written the letter. He smiled slightly and made a note about Binns.

But the future, while it might be better, was very much out of reach at the moment. He opened his newspaper with a frown, seeing images of the destruction of Hogsmeade. The future would have to wait; at the moment, he had to deal with the present.

-

Only a few years later.

-

Severus Snape was not certain why, precisely, he had been called to his Master's chambers. While he was a given the trust of his Lord, he spent much of his time brewing in the elaborate potions lab that had been provided for his use. Not that he wouldn't do whatever had been called upon him to do...but it was still an unusual request.

Perhaps his presence had more to do with the fact that he was among those who knew why this day had some meaning to Lord Voldemort.

Here, on this night, as the seventh month died.

It seemed providential that he had seen Dumbledore that night, and that he had chosen to follow him. He'd been disappointed at first, overhearing a job interview of all things...but then the evening had turned. And while he'd been hauled away before he could hear the end of the prophecy, he had still brought the most important part to his Master.

"We already know of the Longbottom child," the only other individual in the room stated. Lucius Malfoy was a pretty figure, his gold hair gleaming in the gloom. Severus thought the aristocrat looked out of place among the solemnity.

"Yes, we know of him." Lord Voldemort was seated in a wingback chair. The only light in the room was the fire crackling in the hearth. He watched the flames and his eyes seemed to glow even more unnaturally as the light reflected."But the Potters..." he trailed off thoughtfully.

Severus ignored the slight twist of his gut.

"As my Lord will, but surely the Longbottoms would be better suited for..." he trailed off. Perhaps he had been about to 'honor' and had realized the foolishness of the statement. Malfoy covered up the silence hastily, "That Mudblood whore would never be able to produce a wizard of notice."

Both Lord Voldemort and Severus Snape remained silent at this comment.

"I don't like Potters," their Lord finally said, his hands flexing in the light of the fire.

Snape agreed with him on that point.

"Aren't you going to ask 'why', Severus?" Voldemort tilted his head in a gesture that seemed friendly. It was moments like this when Severus remembered the charming persuader who had convinced him to brand his skin.

"I assume that it's because he's an attention-seeking, arrogant, incompetent— " Severus vented his thoughts because that was what his Lord was expecting.

"I daresay you could keep going," Lord Voldemort allowed, his voice dismissive, "but you would be wrong."

Severus bit his lip.

"Go ahead and ask," Lord Voldemort taunted, the friendly tone rolling off his tongue in way that made both Lucius and Severus feel more at ease. In his genial moments their Lord was almost kind, but only a fool would think this attitude allowed carelessness.

"Why, m'lord?" he asked lowly.

"Do you recall an attack on Hogsmeade? It would have been during your sixth year." Their Lord didn't bother to look at them as he spoke; his eyes remained focused on the fire and his voice somewhat faint.

"I recall it," Severus agreed. "I wasn't present."

"More pressing matters than visiting a silly little village?" Voldemort asked, but he didn't seem to expect an answer. "That event is more lie than fact, so it wouldn't have mattered if you had been there. And you mustn't trust what you have heard." He rubbed his knuckles.

"I would never trust Potter's claims of bravery," Severus scoffed. Despite himself, he found he was intrigued. That battle had very much catapulted James Potter to his fame—it had guaranteed him the Head Boy slot even though there were doubtlessly others that were more suited. After that incident, there had been no stopping the pompous wretch whom everyone said was a hero.

"James Potter didn't fight me in that village," Voldemort said softly, a light chuckle in his tone, "Well, he tried. I fought another boy. They looked alike, and I can understand the confusion."

Severus knew that his Lord never understood or forgave but he remained silent.

Voldemort raised a hand to his head, pushing down the black hair that rested on his skull. "Very alike indeed."

"He fought with a power that— " he finally turned to look at them, his gaze patronizing. "You wouldn't understand. But the potential was intoxicating. Later he was gone: disappeared as if he had never been. I only ever learned one thing...quite trivial, really. It was as if he had been completely erased from the minds that should have known him. I sought out Potter first to try and answer these questions but his mind was blank on the subject: wiped cleaner than even a memory charm could provide."

_Not surprising_, Severus thought to himself._ There probably hadn't been much there to begin with._

Severus remained quiet, hoping that he would be told more. How had Potter taken the glory from this powerful stranger? Several residents of Hogsmeade had identified Potter as their savior; it had been a very sickening period of time for the young Snape. But, now that he thought on it, he never remembered James actually saying he had done anything. The people had identified a teenager with messy black hair and glasses, and the papers had run with the story. James had been given the credit and the rewards. (Not that he had turned any of them down.)

But the Dark Lord remained silent, and it was usually best not to ask for information that their master wanted to provide.

Still. "What did you learn my lord," Snape asked as formally and politely as he could.

The Dark Lord seemed to be in a humoring mood, his red eyes gazed for a moment at Snape.

"Nothing of consequence, really. His first name—James Potter and Lily Evans were both heard to have called him by it."

"Surely that must have helped..." Malfoy said softly, rapidly silencing himself at his master's cold eyes.

"It wasn't a name of much distinction," he finally said, turning back to the fire and ignoring them once again.

The clock chimed somewhere in the shadows, heralding the end of June. And it was then that a knock sounded on the door.

"M'lord..." A feminine voice purred, noticeably distinct among the darkness.

"Any word from Mungos, Bella?" Voldemort asked from his chair, the fire crackling providing the only noise in the expectant room.

"Another boy was born," she said simply, keeping her head bowed the entire time. Severus found her servile manner a little over the top, but she was another of their Lord's favorites.

"Harry James Potter was born to the Potter and Mudblood an hour ago."

As soon as the words left her lips the fire began burning more wildly, the flames growing and licking the edges of the fireplace while they all stood frozen. Their master's chair seemed almost demonic, silhouetted in the darkened room, encircled by a frame of flames.

"Harry?" the low voice growled.. The fire reached greater heights, escaping the hearth and setting the mantle ablaze. They all stood hesitant to do anything least it bee seen as an irritation. A familiar terror shaking their bones, as the wall before them burned.

Just as suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness, the fiery red coals providing the only light.

"He will die."

-

Yawns. Much Thanks to MeShelly who once again shifted through this mess, as Alpha's go she's top drawer. She even stood this thing a second read and got it back to me in a night. Incredibleness is too minor of a word, but it's too late for me to think of a better one. Still, really wish she could get reviews telling her how great her editing is, certainly deserves it. And as always any errors are mine, kept in due to stubborn dimwitted moi, may you enjoy it.

And before the e-mails flood in, Harry may have returned to his time but the story isn't over. Like I would end it there. Tempting but no. The next chapter is already in the works.


	12. Chapter 12

Good-byes Take Time

Day: 10 (The Return)

-

Harry's vision blurred for a moment, and the scenery changed a bit. The clouds that had been coming in from the east now blanketed the sky, and the warm weather had disappeared, letting the chilly November air reach up to meet him. He looked unsurprised about the change and merely continued to trudge up the path to the school.

When he reached the gates, he came to understand some of the problems involved in time travel. Harry latched onto the bars and shook; the metal was locked tightly and it did not move a whit at his attempts.

Harry raised his fist and pounded on the gate. "Hello!" he called. It didn't do much good, as everyone was probably getting ready for dinner. Harry's own stomach growled in protest. He looked up at the castle in the distance. It was getting dark and the lights gleamed and twinkled mockingly.

"_Alohomora_?" Harry tried, not much hope in his tone. The door didn't budge. Once more with feeling, he supposed. "_Alohomora_," he called, forcing the remainder of his magic into the unlocking charm.

"Ouch!" Harry cursed and rubbed at his hand where he had been struck by a shot of electricity from the gate.

"Hello?!" Harry called again. He gazed at the empty grounds unhappily. He looked up. Could he climb over the fence? A levitation charm? Harry considered the snap of electricity that had struck his hand moments ago. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to try and sneak over the castle's protections. There had to be a reason why Voldemort never entered through the front door.

"Can _someone_ OPEN the gate?!" he called louder, hoping his words would manage to carry on the wind that was picking up.

Harry crossed his arms to try and retain heat; his clothing from the warm September day wasn't adequate for this new weather. Above, the dark clouds thundered ominously. Already a few drops were falling heavily, the splatters of moisture making his still-damp shirt become wet again. He'd managed to dry his drenched clothes a bit but it seemed he wasn't 'fated' to be dry today. He cast a charm to repel the water just before the sky opened up. It caused the drops to avoid him some, but the pouring rain still found a way in. His shoes squelched in the mud and his toes felt cold. But he was too tired from the afternoon's fight to care.

He was still gazing up towards the castle when an ancient-looking gray umbrella scuttled into view. It was carried by a bony hand and positioned in such a way that Harry couldn't see its carrier's face as they approached. But the shuffling walk and the faint wheezing cough that emerged from under the large tattered umbrella left Harry little doubt who his rescuer was.

"Mr. Filch," Harry greeted in a voice that might sound friendly.

The Hogwarts caretaker stopped short of the gate, raising the umbrella and allowing his small eyes to rest on Harry. They were not kind eyes.

"Well, well, well," he intoned darkly. "What sort of mischief have you been up to?"

"Well, funny story," Harry began, still trying to sound chipper as the rain continued to pour down upon him.

Filch sneered. "You'll be in it for this, leaving the school grounds...tsk," he continued, licking his gums in a manner that expressed some level of enjoyment, as if he were tasting one of his favorite dishes.

"Yes, well..." Harry shifted his weight on wet feet. "Are you going to let me in?" He offered a smile that might have given Lockhart a run for his money.

Filch dug into his pockets slowly, laboriously hefting a key ring that was littered with over a hundred keys of all shapes and sizes. The ring shook slightly in the man's bony grasp.

"Isn't Hagrid keeper of the keys?" Harry found himself asking as Filch fiddled.

Filch muttered to himself. "Messy brute—_sniff_, know how he got his job—_cough_, not so warmhearted we'd have a decent grounds keeper."

Harry tried his best to ignore the quiet complaints and insinuations. "Bet he'd have found the key by now," he couldn't help saying.

Filch's movements slowed, his pale eyes meeting Harry's gaze harshly. He smirked before choosing the first key on the ring. "Let's give this a go then, shall we?" He attempted to insert it into the keyhole...seeing as the key looked more suited to a Muggle bike lock, it was unsurprising that it didn't fit. Filch's face screwed into a disappointed expression.

"Oops. Well, the next one then." Filch moved on to the next key in the row. Harry looked at the massive key ring, his spirits dropping quicker than the temperature.

This was going to be a very long evening.

-

When Harry Potter finally made it up to Hogwarts, dinner was almost over. It probably would have been entirely over if Filch had been given his way. Luckily, at key number eighty-six a stray bolt of lighting had managed to strike Filch's umbrella, mercifully sparing the caretaker but not the umbrella. Suddenly, torturing Harry wasn't as much fun when he had to stand in the pouring rain to do it.

Harry shook his somewhat damp hair as he entered the Great Hall. His appearance was enough to spark silence followed by much conversation.

"Harry!" Hermione called, her voice rising above the others. One of his best friends rose from her seat at the Gryffindor table, waving him over excitedly.

Harry approached, dripping water, feeling very tired, cold and hungry. And oddly enough when he spied Ron he couldn't help but feel strangely annoyed at the redhead. He'd been unaware of any ire up till now, but suddenly seeing Ron Weasley dry, happy, and still eating a particularly large piece of tart, put the whole thing in perspective.

"Had to tick Binns off?" Harry questioned, his voice raising above the chatter.

Ron smiled. "Hey, Harry! Good to have you back, mate." Ron snickered as he took in Harry's damp appearance. "How was your trip?"

But Harry wasn't quite in the mood for friendly banter. "Had to upset the one ghost with the ability to send us back in time!" Harry continued.

Ron grinned sheepishly, looking around the table at other accusing stares. "Now, Harry," Ron placated, raising his voice so that the other Gryffindors around him could hear, "you know that it was partly Hermione's fault as well."

At these words, Hermione's eyebrows raised skyward. "And just _how_ am I to blame?" she argued.

But Harry was having none of that. Hermione squabbled with Ron her fair share; now it was his turn.

"And you have the gall, THE GALL, to complain about being sent to—when was it?" He turned to Hermione.

"1213," Hermione answered simply. She was accurately reading the situation and settled down into her seat. She did, however, cast a drying charm in Harry's direction which seemed to lessen the dripping a bit, even if it did make his hair stand up more messily.

"1213! And you smugly complained about the_ food_!" Harry pounded the table for dramatic effect, making a few of the dishes clatter about.

"You tell him Harry!" Seamus Finnigan called, pounding the table in a similar manner. The Irish student had apparently not forgotten his own historical field trip spent as a prisoner.

Ron bit his lip, looking a little nervous. "So, I guess you weren't sent anywhere nice, huh?"

Harry sat down next to his friend. "Imagine the worst time I could be sent to."

Ron exchanged a look with Hermione. "Um...1213?"

Harry's head sank into his hands. "Pass the trifle," he ordered weakly.

"I know, you were sent back to the time of the Founders!" Hermione said excitedly.

Neville was listening and handed Harry the dessert he'd requested; Harry helped himself to a large portion.

"Having to meet the original Snake-face himself, eh?" Ron shook his head. "I'm real sorry, Harry."

"I wasn't sent back to the time of the Founders," Harry corrected amicably, feeling less annoyed as he helped himself to his dessert. He decided to remain silent, rather enjoying the guessing game that was starting.

"What about when...You-Know-Who was going to school?" Neville offered quietly. People around the table shivered, looking at Harry pityingly.

"No," Harry said.

"Harry, you didn't!" Hermione chided. She seemed to have reached another idea. "You were sent back to when Voldemort was a baby and tried to kill him!"

"Hmm, good idea, that," Ron said with a serious nod.

"No, I didn't," Harry said with a sigh. Although Ron did have a point: that one might not have been so bad.

The table grew quiet as they tried to consider when he might have been sent.

"The Giant Attack of 1423?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, sipping his pumpkin juice.

"I'm stumped," Ron gave up.

"The 70s," Harry answered.

The table looked stunned for a moment before someone snickered. Soon, most everyone was laughing. His fellow Gryffindors passed the information quickly and a few other tables joined in smiling and laughing at what they assumed to be Harry's joke. The Slytherins seemed terribly disappointed; most had hoped that Potter would draw a particularly horrid fate.

"Good one," Dean Thomas said. He struck a pose, breaking into disco moves that had the entire House laughing.

Beside him Seamus watched his friend, feigning fear. "Nooo, not disco—anything but that!"

This sparked more laughter and soon everyone was going back to their meals.

"Yeah, not the best period for trousers," Ron scoffed. "You had me thinking it was something serious." He slugged Harry's shoulder grumpily. "I was thinking I'd—" he paused to look at Hermione, "_we'd _really messed you over."

Hermione's face however had fallen some; her brown eyes had become gentle and her lips narrowed. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," she said quietly. She reached across the table and placed an extra piece of cake on his plate, her eyes a little watery as she did so.

Ron paused somewhere mid-bite, setting his fork on the table and watching his friends with confusion. Hermione, daughter of dentists, never encouraged Harry in his cravings for sweets.

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't that bad..." He lifted his fork to take a bite. Chocolate: his favorite.

As he rested his other hand on the table, Hermione reached over and grasped it tightly; he couldn't avoid the wince. He looked up at her all-knowing gaze sheepishly.

"Not bad, hm?" she questioned.

Harry tucked his still-burnt hand into his lap. The steam serpent thing had left a mark: a cruel-looking blister was forming on the red hand.

"It's nothing, I'll put some ice on it later. Just a little tussle with Voldemort," Harry said.

"What!" Ron looked around to see if anyone was listening as he leaned forward. "What's going on here? Why were you fighting with— "

Hermione ignored him, her eyes locked on Harry. "You didn't!" she hissed, trying to remain quiet.

"You keep saying that," he replied. "Yet I'm pretty sure it happened." He smiled at her in a calming way.

Hermione worried her lip as she looked down at the table. "How could you have fought with Voldemort? How could you risk meddling in time like that?"

"Nothing happened," Harry appeased.

"You can only hope nothing happened," she muttered darkly.

Harry waved her concern away. Nothing bad had happened.

"I'm missing something," Ron said, knowing that any adventure Harry tried to tone down had likely been much more serious. But why had Hermione been so sorry for their friend before? And now that Hermione had pointed out the burnt hand, Ron was noticing other signs of exhaustion and wear on his friend, and not the kind a walk up to the castle in the rain would cause.

"The _70s_, Ron," Hermione said.

Ron lowered his head. He still wasn't getting it and it made him feel like a real prat; it must have been a big deal if Hermione was using her 'Let's protect Harry' tone. "Yeah...?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"That was when Harry's parents were at Hogwarts." Hermione provided the information gently, keeping her voice low. Harry kept eating.

The knowledge blossomed over Ron's face, making him drop his own dessert clumsily. "Cor, sorry about that," he apologized. It was past the point of assigning blame; he just felt bad for his friend.

"Suppose you didn't ask Binns to go off his gob," Harry allowed with a crooked smile.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, well, still mustn't have been pleasant." His face suddenly darkened and his eyes widened. "Er—your mum didn't, well, she didn't fancy you or anything, did she?" Ron's face went somewhat green.

"No," Harry said. What was it with people trying to pair him with Lily? Bunch of twisted fellows there.

"What year was it Harry?" Hermione probed.

"It was my parents' sixth year too, so that would make it 1976."

"Ooh," Hermione gushed excitedly. "That was a very important year in Voldemort's rise to power."

Harry and Ron looked at her blankly.

She cringed. "That was a bit uncaring, wasn't it? But aren't you ever going to read _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_?" she asked, waving her own question away even as she said it. "It was during 1976 that Voldemort—"

Hermione was bumped when Parvati, who was sitting near her, flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

Ron grinned. "Gosh, Hermione, don't startle people," he teased. "Bad enough Harry can't get it right."

"That is precisely my point. Did you know that he wasn't even called "You-Know-Who" until 1976? After Pratchett Manor was burned to the ground in January of '76 some people did, and he wasn't usually openly named, but it wasn't until the Black Strikes of 1976 and '77 that he was listed by the Ministry as You-Know-Who. The Black Strikes..." She shook her head. "They were really quite brutal, using dark creatures, Death Eaters, and so many cases of the Imperius curse that no one trusted anyone. That was when people truly started to fear him."

"You don't say," Harry replied dryly.

"Yes," Hermione said, speaking rapidly, as she fell back into her teaching mode. "After one terrible attack on a Hogsmeade weekend, visits were banned for the next five years. Hogwarts was terribly divided then. Oh, it must have been a very interesting time to observe..." Hermione trailed off as she managed to spy Harry's disinterested face.

"But I suppose we can talk about it another time." Hermione took a breath and then turned to meet Ron's eyes. The redhead laughed at her under his breath, which she replied to with a dirty look.

"That sounds nice," Harry said, ignoring the interplay between his two friends. He negligently rested his elbow in a bit of pudding as he balanced his head on his knuckles. He was falling more and more into the fatigue that had been swallowing him. He had just fought a Dark Lord, he reminded himself; if anyone had the right to a little lay in, it was him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's familiar voice said. Harry's neck craned up to look at his tall headmaster. Filch, he noticed, was clinging at the man's side, looking damp but smug.

"A word, if you wouldn't mind."

Harry looked at his plate desirously. "Well, I was rather planning on finishing some pudding and—" Harry flinched as Hermione planted a deft kick to his shin, her flashing eyes reminding him that he was speaking with the headmaster. "Er, well, sure. Why not?" he conceded.

"By all means, bring your dinner," Dumbledore allowed. "The pudding is excellent."

Harry rose to his feet, taking the gold plate with him as he followed the headmaster and caretaker out.

"I hope you had an enjoyable trip," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "in whatever time you were sent to. A good vacation..." the headmaster trailed off at Harry's glum expression.

"I take it didn't go well."

"It was fine," Harry waved off as he took a bit of dessert. "Ruddy luck when it came to the _when_ but should have expected no less." He paused for a moment. "It was educational though," he allowed with a light smile on his face.

Dumbledore noticed the expression and provided an even larger grin of his own. "Harry, you always call it bad luck but it seems that you also always manage to get out of whatever situations you are thrust into." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled in a manner that Harry found annoying. He dropped his attempt at a smile and replaced it with a yawn.

"So when, if I may ask?"

"1976," Harry answered briefly, another yawn breaking through.

Dumbledore stumbled on his long robes. "Hm, you do end up in the most tangled of situations. I underestimated...so you're the reason I have trouble remembering the beginning of that year." He paused once again. "So that's why..." Dumbledore trailed off, a smile at the edges of his mouth.

"Headmaster," an irritated voice interrupted. Dumbledore smiled at Filch who was looking grumpier and grumpier as the conversation continued. "I think I can handle things from here, Argus," the headmaster dismissed cheerily.

Filch's lips puckered. "No," he said quite clearly. "This brat was outside the school grounds and I want him punished. Punished!" The man stamped his foot, which must still have been wet as it produced an interesting squelching sound.

"Well, I'm sure there were..."

"I will hand in my notice!" Filch continued to whine bitterly.

Dumbledore opened his palms wide and waved him down. "There, there," he placated gently. "He'll be punished."

Filch didn't look like he believed the headmaster but he turned on his heel and began chasing after some third years who were walking too loudly.

"Funny, professor," Harry said, taking another bite of pudding.

"When was I joking, Harry?" Dumbledore didn't look in his direction as he spoke and Harry found it was difficult to swallow down the bite of cake.

Harry had finished eating by the time they had arrived at the headmaster's office. He settled his plate on the wizard's desk as he found a place in the chair that sat before it. He was still tired and his eyes were drooping noticeably.

"I'll only take a brief moment," Dumbledore said with a quirk of his lips. "While my memory is a bit hazy, I suppose you have had a very busy day."

Harry nodded. "How much do you remember, actually?" he questioned curiously. He hadn't asked many questions about the potion that Slughorn was brewing, but he would hazard to guess that it had done its job effectively. He was still curious, however, about how much his presence might have affected the people and time he'd come to know.

"About you, nothing at all," Dumbledore replied cheerfully.

Harry told himself it was pointless to feel upset.

"But I do recall the terrible week I had after your disappearance." Dumbledore rubbed his spectacles on his brightly colored robes (fuchsia today) and a well-defined wrinkle appeared in his forehead.

Harry listened as the headmaster leaned back in his chair.

"I was under the impression that perhaps something like this had happened, due to a note I had written myself. But I apparently was not very clear on all I would need to know. The Ministry was ruthless in attempting to congratulate the 'Hero of Hogsmeade', particularly as no one seemed to step forward for the honor. I had a very difficult time trying to explain away a situation I could not remember. I am afraid they thought me a little senile," the headmaster chuckled to himself.

"You don't say," Harry replied.

"Yes, devilish week, but then...things sorted themselves out well, I think."

"No consequence with time, then? I didn't cause, or not cause, anything to happen?" It was a rather simple question, asked lightly and without any pressure to respond in one manner or other, but Dumbledore paused.

It was a distinct pause; a few ticks passed and the room was silent as Dumbledore sat very still. He seemed to be thinking, deciding something, and Harry wondered if his face had paled some.

"No," the man finally answered merrily. "I'm certain everything happened as it should." There was a sharpness about that smile: it seemed almost forced. Most people likely wouldn't notice it, but Harry did and acknowledged it with a slight nod.

"So was there anything— " Harry broke off with a yawn.

The headmaster's eyes twinkled as he watched his student on the brink of falling asleep. "No, not really; it can keep until morning."

Harry wondered how bad Dumbledore's week in the past had been that he'd decided to drag Harry up to his tower when he was ready to drop. But then he supposed he had probably left his fair share of trouble when he'd been spirited away.

"Oh, Harry...you'll have detention this weekend. Polishing the trophy room, I should think," Dumbledore nodded absently.

"Professor?" Harry questioned weakly.

"Well, Filch is right: you were outside the castle grounds and— "

"It was a Hogsmeade weekend," Harry protested.

"Did you have your permission slip signed by a parent or guardian prior to visiting the village?" Dumbledore asked simply.

"Err—" Harry hesitated for a moment. "Not as such. I do have one now though."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Twenty odd years later is a bit late. I'm afraid you'll have to forfeit one day to Mr. Filch."

Harry thought up a pretty good argument. There had to be a legal precedent regarding promissory documents with regards to time travel. And there was the little matter of life and Death Eaters. If he had to force it, he figured he could skate on the old 'public hero' clause. In his experience, heroes were allowed to disregard little rules and matters of private property when in the act of rescuing. For Merlin's sake, the man across the table had awarded him points in his first year for venturing into the _forbidden_ third floor corridor.

Harry yawned. It really wasn't worth it.

"Where and when, sir?" he asked.

Dumbledore was hiding a laugh, Harry knew he was. "Report to Mr. Filch on Sunday, nine o'clock," the headmaster said simply.

Harry nodded, his expression becoming thoughtful. "That reminds me, sir; what is the day today?"

"Ah..." Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "Thursday," he said simply.

"Time travel," Harry cursed sullenly. "How else could I manage two Thursdays in a week." He rose to his feet, rebelliously leaving his dirty dish stacked on the headmaster's desk.

"'Night, Harry," Dumbledore wished him gently.

Harry waved in acknowledgment before slipping out the door and heading with lead feet to the Gryffindor Common Room. But so help him if the password wasn't the same, he and the headmaster were going to have words.

-

It was late and most of the school was asleep. Harry had been asleep hours before everyone else. He'd drifted off while Ron had been nattering on about the other students who had gone and returned in his absence. Dean Thomas had ventured to 1896, which hadn't been too bad, at least from Ron's point of view, considering that Hogwarts had fashioned some sort of indoor plumbing by that point. Draco Malfoy had left only a day after Harry. It must have happened sometime in the evening because no one had seen it and the Slytherin House wasn't sharing any details. The blonde pure-blood prince had yet to return, something Ron seemed pleased about.

But sleep still wasn't as soothing at it should have been. Harry was lost in his mind of muddled dreams and hazy emotions again. Just when he was becoming accustomed to the nothingness, he felt a sharp pain rocket through his temple and his dark dream was blinded with intense light.

He awoke breathing heavily, his pulse beating erratically. He was filled with a sense of certainty, the sort of thing you really shouldn't listen to at a little after three in the morning. He would have felt better if he could have simply rejected the knowledge that had invaded his head, but he knew it was impossible.

Somehow, somewhere, Voldemort had awoken.

He rolled over, wishing his mind would allow his aching body to sleep. But despite how tired he was, he crawled out of bed and sat beside his window, looking down at the Hogwarts grounds that had been painted silver by the almost full moon that hung overhead. A few dusty gray clouds remained in the sky. A small puffing of flakes that would be gone by morning were being tousled about in the wind. Harry rested his forehead against the chilly panes, allowing the cold to sooth the ache that emanated from his scar.

A flash of white wings presented itself, blocking his vision.

"Hedwig," he greeted softly, opening the window and allowing his owl to land on his arm. He stroked her gently as her beak brushed his face. "You always know when I need you." She soared to a perch on his bed posts when he rose to his feet. At the foot of his bed his resized trunk lay open. The Boa Vine was still inside and he took it out, setting what currently amounted to a small stick by the window.

"_You can grow now_," Harry hissed gently. However, there was no movement from the plant.

Harry returned to his trunk and pulled out the paper and quill he had been searching for.

_Dear Dumbledore,_

_Things I think you ought to know:_

_1) Voldemort is awake._

_2) I am running low on lemon drops. Please get in touch with your contact again. (I'm still not giving him a signed picture. I don't care what sort of deal he'll give us.)_

_In a somewhat unrelated way, was wondering if you knew anyone who was skilled in Muggle fighting. Might be a good recourse, you know, given my history. Anyone skilled in teaching the 'touch of death' would work, or maybe a Mr. Miyagi type of person. Wax on, wax off...got that skill learned when I washed Uncle Vernon's car. Did you see that movie? I think you'd like it._

_Night,_

_Harry P._

He folded the letter and let his owl wrap her claws around it. "Wake him up if you have to, I'm sure he'll think it's important."

Hedwig swept back out into the chilly night air, and Harry closed the window behind her to keep the cold out of their dormitory. He continued watching the moonlight scenery for a bit before climbing back into his four poster and falling asleep.

Somewhere else an old man pulled on a mismatched dressing gown, wrote a short letter, and sent it with a brown school owl. Then he sent his patronus out with a very important message. He was running low on lemon drops as well.

-

Day: 11 (Where we stop counting.)

-

The next morning Harry wasn't surprised to see that the front page article of the _Daily Prophet _was dedicated to cheering on the Puddlemere United Team as they traveled to Germany to play the Munich Merlins. No mention was made of Voldemort's return to the living, but seeing as the wizarding world at large had been cheering his death for the last few months, it was to be expected. It was also quite possible that they didn't know.

Harry was settled at the Gryffindor table. He'd brought down with him a small clay pot that seemed to contain a short little stick. Hermione was gazing at the stick, but hadn't said anything about it yet. Harry admitted it did seem strange that he had brought the Boa Vine to the table. It had reverted back to its previously dour state, and it could not be said that Harry had ever been much of a Herbology student. Ron was too busy eating to question the plant that had joined them.

"Why so curious about the paper?" Hermione asked, her eyes leaving the Boa Vine. She seemed to have decided to ignore his newest oddity.

Harry looked around and noted that no one seemed to be giving their conversation much attention. "Just wondering if they commented on Voldemort waking up," he answered with a shrug.

Hermione swallowed. "He woke up..."

Ron spluttered his food across the table.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, his eyes looking somewhat serious. "Guess the vacation is over, eh?"

Hermione accepted this with a brisk sip of tea and Ron collected himself as well, rubbing his hands steadily as his thoughts left breakfast.

Harry was right: they had fallen back into a false world where only the going-ons of Hogwarts mattered. They would be stepping out of that again, the way they had stepped out of it before. There was no more discussion on the matter. No more was needed. The three Gryffindors had chosen their roles long ago.

"Morning, Harry," Neville Longbottom said, sitting next to him. "Taking an interest in Herbology?" the other Gryffindor asked, peering at Harry's pot with some interest.

"Sort of; the thing was shut in a trunk for a few days and now it's sulking," Harry stated. He raised an eyebrow at the Boa Vine, as if to let it know that he wouldn't tolerate this behavior.

Neville looked a bit defensive on the plant's behalf. "I'm sure it just needs a little water and, uh—well, being locked up like that can't have been good for it."

Harry nodded but still looked suspicious. "I'm taking it to Professor Sprout; maybe she can look at it after class."

The conversation and meal were wrapping up when Harry saw someone he wanted to speak to.

"Colin," he shouted, finally spotting the short mousy brown head further down the table. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Me!" the Muggle-born student squeaked.

Harry nodded.

Colin scampered down the aisle between the tables, wringing his robes in an excited manner. He stood before Harry with a wide grin on his face.

"What...Morning, Harry, um, what were you needing?" He managed not to stutter or stare at Harry's forehead during the entire greeting; as such, it was something of an accomplishment.

"Just something to discuss," Harry said, rising to his feet and walking beside the younger boy.

Colin continued to smile as Harry swung an arm around his shoulder and began leading him away, whispering quietly.

"Harry, don't forget about class," Hermione called as they passed through the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry made no move that he had heard and the two disappeared from sight.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

Hermione turned back to the newspaper she'd been skimming. "He'll tell us when we need to know."

"This is Harry we're talking about," Ron reminded her.

Hermione looked toward the doors he'd exited out of. "If he doesn't, we'll figure it out like always." She shared a grin with Ron.

The Golden Trio was going back to doing what they did best: following Harry into whatever mess he got into and finding a way to get out of it.

-

Harry arrived just in time for Herbology class, managing to slip in just as Professor Sprout was passing out sacks of dead mice, which they were feeding to the Venus Fly-trap. Unlike the Muggle plant of the same name, the magical Venus Fly-trap was exceedingly dangerous to humans. Particularly men. It took on the shape of a beautiful woman and used its charms to lure humans into a well-hidden set of jaws. (Not on the head; think lower.)

They weren't particularly fond of dead rats, or so they learned as they tossed the rodents at the plant. Apparently the trick was to get the plant to turn and go after a rat. Professor Sprout said that after seeing it eat, the 'charm', so to speak, was broken. The plant that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville were sharing was looking at them very snootily as they tried to tempt her with the meat.

"I don't think she'd eat me," Neville insisted for the tenth time. He gazed admiringly at the beautifully portioned flower, one which resembled a human face to an alarming degree.

"She'd gobble you up," Harry argued again, giving the back of his friend's shirt a tug to keep him from nearing the dangerous plant. Neville's love for plants was really working against him here. Ron was staying sane by periodically glancing at Hermione, who was glowering at him.

Neville looked away from the plant, pulling himself together. "So, you went to the seventies, huh?" He was staring at the ground as he spoke. There was a great deal being said in those little words. Neville's gaze flickered up.

"Remind me to tell you some funny stories about your mum sometime," Harry said with a grin.

Neville's head jerked up suddenly. "_Harry, what did you do with my mum_?!"

Harry's laughter filled the greenhouse and the heads of even the Venus Fly-traps turned in his direction. He kept laughing even as Neville continued to call his name nervously.

-

After class, Harry finally had the opportunity to talk to Professor Sprout about the Boa Vine.

"Welcome back, Harry," the friendly head of Hufflepuff House said. "I hear you got the opportunity to meet my predecessor, Professor Pod."

Harry nodded. "He was interesting."

Sprout smiled. "Despite that, he did some amazing work with these greenhouses." Her eyes fell on pot that Harry was holding in his hand. "A talent you could learn from," she said sadly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you'd seen it a few days ago, you'd think it was different plant. Grows like crazy, but I had to keep it in a trunk if it wanted to come back to the future with me. Which it said it did." Once again Harry gazed meaningfully at the plant, as if the thing could understand.

Spout blinked before smiling at him gently. "Why were you so interested in bringing it back?" she asked curiously. "You've never had much dedication when it came to..." she trailed off with a smile.

With that, Harry went on to explain what he knew about the Boa Vine and its previously avid growing self. As Harry described how the plant managed to take over their dorm room, Professor Sprout bit back a chuckle as she pulled out a large dirty book that was settled on a potting table.

"Hm." She paged through the text, her soiled fingers leaving more smudges as she skimmed through the book. "Boa Vine," she said, finally landing on the plant's entry, her eyes widening as she continued reading. "Goodness." Her eyes switched to the plant in Harry's hand.

She reached over and placed the pot delicately on the table, her tongue running against her lip as she stared.

"Harry, you know this is really quite amazing. The Boa Vine no longer exists; at least, it didn't until now. The last attempt at cultivating it died in the 80s. You managed to bring back a—well, a somewhat living specimen."

Harry looked at the stick. "I think it's pouting," he directed this at the plant again, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I would too. The poor thing must be starved for conversation. I think the best thing for it is to stay close to you and provide it with some good discussion. Boa Vines only flourish around Parselmouths."

"Why is that?" Harry finally managed to ask. He still had the little black book that Professor Pod had provided, which hadn't been helpful at all.

Professor Sprout grew thoughtful for a minute. "You know," she said pensively, "I don't think anyone ever knew. They're supposedly terribly useful to Parselmouths, though. Now that I think about it, Salazar Slytherin had a patch growing on the walls surrounding the grounds. Apparently they would strangle any unwelcome visitors." Professor Sprout chuckled. "Little grim I suppose, but quite an amazing plant."

Harry nodded, looking at the plant closely. "Well then, me and the vine may have to have a discussion about good Parselmouths and bad ones."

The older woman raised a gray eyebrow. "Indeed."

-

As per Professor Sprouts's suggestion, Harry began chatting to his plant during periods of boredom. Certainly gave some students a turn: not only was Harry speaking Parseltongue, not something he would normally do, but he was also speaking to a plant. Harry could foresee the_ Daily Prophet_ publishing this little tidbit soon. But then he supposed it was about time he gave them something worthy of vilification. They'd been up on him lately; it was only a matter of time before he once again became a crazy delinquent with a hero complex. It kept the spice of life, after all.

It was dinner before Hermione commented on it; her attempt at not prying was certainly record worthy for the bushy-haired bibliophile.

"So you're talking to it, hoping it will grow?" she questioned.

"Not hoping," Harry argued. "The thing will grow like a bloody weed once it stops being mad at me."

"Harry, it's a plant, it doesn't get mad," Hermione argued before helping herself to some dinner.

"_She thinks you don't get angry_," Harry hissed to the plant. "_Why don't you prove her wrong_?" he prompted. But the Boa Vine wasn't taking the bait and remained a rather dried up stick in its pot.

"Want to play some Quidditch tomorrow?" Ron asked, ignoring the plant entirely.

Harry was about to agree before his spirits dropped. "Can't; detention."

Ron laughed. "Oh, yeah: only you'd manage to get detention right when you get back."

"Eh," Harry said with a frown at his friend. "It was you that got me into this, I wouldn't be so light-hearted."

Ron growled to himself but seemed past the point of arguing.

"Harry, I've thought of something," Hermione said.

Harry turned in his friend's direction. "Revolutionary: Hermione thinking. Could never have pictured that."

Hermione shook her head dismissively. "If anything, this experience should teach you how foolish your 'Days of the Week' theory is. If you recall, this entire mess started on Tuesday, your _one_ good day."

Harry was silent for a moment. "Tuesdays still aren't bad," he grinned cheekily. "Just have to watch for high chances of time travel."

-

Later that evening in the Common Room, Harry had been bullied into a game of chess with Ron. Ron claimed that Harry was his best mate and that if anyone should believe his side of the story then Harry should. Harry had mentioned that Hermione was also a very good friend of his, to which Ron had given him a suspicious look and asked 'what that was supposed to mean.' In the end, it was easier to lose at chess than debate the issue.

"Harry! Harry!" an eager voice called. Colin Creevy appeared suddenly, bouncing before Harry energetically.

"Hello, Colin," Harry greeted friendlily. "How'd it go?"

Colin grinned. "Well, I had to skip Potions to get it done for tonight, but I didn't have any trouble even though the camera was so old."

Harry cringed a bit. "I didn't say they had to be done by tonight..."

His protests were waved away by the excited younger student. "Here they are, Harry; Potions isn't important anyway."

"Don't let Snape hear you say that, he's very sensitive." Harry held out his hands and took hold of the small bundle of papers that Colin had clutched.

"There weren't many pictures so I made some copies," Colin explained. He continued waiting eagerly as Harry flipped through the prints, a small smile on his face as Harry progressed through the collection.

"Thanks, Colin, I'd say this is worth five autographs—make it six since you skipped class."

Colin cheered. "I'll go get the pictures and pen for you to sign with." The younger Gryffindor ran off as Harry continued looking through the images. He found one that he liked in particular and paused to stare at it for a moment.

"What've you got there?" Ron asked, peering over the chess board.

"Just some snapshots to remember my historical field trip by," Harry answered.

After a moment, he shifted his hand enough to allow Ron to see the one that had captured his attention.

At first, Ron thought it wasn't much of a picture.

Harry was scratching his head, looking tousled and more than a little annoyed. The town of Hogsmeade was in the background and it looked a right mess. Figures could be seen scurrying about, tending to a building that was smoking and carting things off the street.

It was only on a closer look at the other individuals in the picture that Ron began to understand how precious such a random piece of paper could be.

Harry's gaze never left the image. James and Sirius stood a little to the left, looking rattled from the battle they had endured. Lily was standing with her hands on her hips, her face a little red and looking like she was saying something very nasty to the reporter whose face was just out of frame. The pictures moved and James stepped forward beside Harry, his almost identical face gazing at Harry in confusion. Lily seemed to turn in his direction as well, raising her hand to gesture towards him. And for a moment, just for a moment, mind you, both Lily and James looked like they were standing beside him, both acknowledging him.

They weren't really, of course. It had only happened yesterday from Harry's point of view, so he knew the story behind their actions. James had merely been waiting for Harry to step forward and take the credit and Lily was actually gesturing behind Harry at the group of reporters that were interfering with rescue workers. But it was the first picture Harry had of both himself and his parents where he could remember the photograph's circumstances. It was more than an orphaned boy from Number Four Privet Drive could have hoped for.

Ron didn't ask about the picture, and seemed to know he wasn't supposed to. Harry tucked most of the pictures into his nearby satchel, but this one he folded and stuck in his breast pocket. Smiling, he began another game with Ron, one which he would surely loose.

When they finally went to bed that night, Harry set his Boa Vine on the table next to his bed.

He showered and changed, and when he was about to fold himself into his covers he noticed something had changed. The Boa Vine was once again tangling around his bedposts and resting in his canopy.

"_Decided to forgive me?_" he hissed gently.

"_Home_," was all the plant replied.

"_Promise not to tangle the room again—no grow big_," he directed.

"_Yes,_" the plant agreed.

"_It is good to be home,_" Harry agreed, knowing that in some ways, he only half-meant it.

-

The next day Harry reported for detention, he stood demurely while Filch inspected him and his fellow prisoner. Dean Thomas had also been hooked for this duty, having been caught adding to his mural in the fourth floor men's bathroom. It was actually an elaborate piece of work, managing to string together the Hogwarts gossip of the last few years into one cohesive masterpiece. Dean also had an impressive imagination about what some of their female classmates looked like under their uniforms. (Ron had decked him when he'd considered adding Hermione to the wall some time after the Yule Ball; he'd been forced to shift to Hannah Abbot instead.) But Filch was less than impressed with Dean's artistic expression. He'd spent years trying to erase the Spellnick's Permanent Ink ("_It's there for life!_") but had only just caught Dean recently.

After Filch had left Harry and Dean with their silver polish, Harry managed to get the full story out of his roommate.

"Yeah, he caught me while you were gone," the artist explained. "I'd just got back from 1896 and wanted to add something I learned there. Did you know that Headmaster Dumbledore..." he trailed off and tugged on his collar.

"You went back to Dumbledore's school years?!" Harry laughed.

"He was fifth year," Dean said, "and let's just say he liked to study while watching the Quidditch team— and there weren't any girls on the team then, if you get my drift."

Harry chuckled. "If there wasn't any obvious drool he did pretty good for a fifth year; Quidditch players are hot," Harry said, laughing at the self-compliment.

"Sort of explains a bit though, eh?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and looking over at Harry from behind a large silver trophy.

Harry grimaced. "I prefer to think that after 150 years, those bits aren't working anymore."

"Prudish?" Dean accused. "Didn't expect it of you."

"Maybe I get it from my mother," Harry said with a grin.

"Anyway," Dean returned to his story, "I was adding that particular installment when Filch managed to catch me. It's been four years, I figured he'd find me out one day. So I'll be in here with you polishing the glories of the past, likely for the next few weekends as well."

Harry moved over to a three-tiered trophy that was awarded to Abigail Minty for instituting an 'oral hygiene programme' at Hogwarts in 1763. Real human teeth decorated the top. Harry could see why they'd needed a course on tooth decay.

"Ah, here you are, Harry." Albus Dumbledore had entered. He approached easily, humming slightly to himself. "I have good news for you."

Harry looked back. "Decided to reconsider this whole detention thing?" he questioned hopefully.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Sadly, no. However, I have considered another of your suggestions, and it was met with surprisingly fast results."

Harry now was confused.

"About the physical fighting trainer," Dumbledore prompted.

"You taking up boxing, mate?" Dean asked. His polishing rag stilled while he listened.

"Some," a new voice added. "But also some of the Asian disciplines," a new voice added.

Harry found himself frozen for a moment, almost as if his breath had gotten caught in his throat.

"Professor Barten?" Harry asked, turning to the yet unannounced figure.

Indeed the man did look a great deal like the old Defense professor he'd known. There were more wrinkles and his jet black hair was shorter and turning gray. He entered further into the room. His boots clicked as they walked across the room and the same sort of robe trailed behind him in a flowing movement.

"Good to see you again as well, Mr. Tempus," the man said, his voice not sharing much but his eyes seemed to be smiling.

"Michael?" Dumbledore appeared beside the man. "I wasn't aware...Ah, I see." Dumbledore stood looking very smug.

"I thought you were dead!" Harry exclaimed, raising to his feet and approaching his former teacher. "How did you survive?"

"St. Mungo's is a 'magical' hospital," Barten said simply.

Dumbledore coughed at this sentence. "Michael, you were dead for over seven minutes. And lost more than the recommended amount of blood. If I recall, the nursed were forced to tie you to your bed for almost four months because you kept tearing the new flesh on your chest. Indeed, I was already looking for your replacement when I received word from Mungo's." Dumbledore smiled. "You nearly made the record for shortest time spent as Defense professor."

Barten shrugged away the implied concern. "The real pity is, the gut was pretty badly cut up; can't manage anything spicy or rich. Nothing too acidic, either." Harry and Dumbledore looked a little pitying at this last pronouncement, both thinking of the same sour sweet. "I did get better, and Mr. _Tempus_ should hardly be pointing fingers at people who should have died."

Harry smirked. "Point there," he agreed.

"Although I was surprised when I returned to teaching to find one of my favorite students had disappeared, and odder still, no one seemed to remember him. It took a few years for me to realize the importance of a Potter-look-alike with a lightning bolt scar." Barten's eyes skimmed the fringe on Harry's forehead before meeting his gaze.

"Well," Harry said after a moment's thought, "it will be good to have you back again, professor."

Barten's lips quirked into what might be called a smile. "You as well," he agreed. His eyes flickered behind Harry, catching sight of Dean. His jaw tightened as if to express some emotion.

"You must be Dean," he said gruffly to the other Gryffindor.

"Do I know you?" Dean asked curiously.

Barten paused. "You could say we share a mutual friend," he said awkwardly.

Harry leaned toward Dumbledore. "I get the feeling this might lead to something good." Harry shared quietly.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "You may be right. But then, beginnings always share promise."

"And goodbyes," Harry asked in an conversational manner, watching as Barten began a stilted conversation with his roommate.

"Goodbyes...well, my dear boy, they are just the chance for new beginnings."

"Cryptic as ever," Harry congratulated.

"The key to my success," Dumbledore shared. The headmaster tapped his nose with a flicking gesture.

His lips hid a smile as Harry's hand reached up to brush his shirt pocket, where a certain picture lay. As he stood there in the gloom of old endings and new beginnings, he was certain that things had happened as they were supposed to. No matter how disastrous or terrible they might have been. But that was Harry Potter's life, and it was one he'd have to keep living. Because frankly, no one else would want it.

The End

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A/N: A big thanks to those who helped me with this story. Meshelly who helped me finish out this fic, what can I say, a good writer is nothing without an even better Beta. (Or Alpha as I prefer.) All the reviews kept me thinking and writing, and some of you out there really provided me with some amazing feedback. I hope that I can use that to work on any future writing. Also want to give a mention to the DLP forum, your brand of honesty was greatly appreciated. I hope some of you blast me with your thoughts on this ending.

Thanks again, and hope you all enjoyed this (mis) adventure.


	13. Note To Readers

To Whom It May Concern,

You've gotten through, you've persevered, you've chosen the path of disappointment and regret and followed it to its destination. Yes, you saw a timetravel story reach it's end. Whether there was a purpose or point is anyone's guess.

And yet...if perhaps you've reached the end and still find yourself not quite satisfied, it is my pleasure to announce the beginning of a project I'd like to call Timely Error's Requiem. It contains some little moments lost to time's madcap romp, and might even answer a few of your questions. It is my sincere hope that you enjoy this collection, which lacks plot almost entirely but which does provide some fun characterization, or so my beta tells me. This patchwork of oneshots can be cleverly found on my profile. Take a look if you desire

My your endings prove ambiguous,

Worfe.


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